So Much Wickedness
by Ms Pimprenelle
Summary: Charles Bingley is not what he seems to be. The story also features evil officers, baffled gentlemen, young ladies of marriageable age, and one multi-purpose tree.
1. Chapter 1

I'm still in the process of re-posting stuff I already posted elsewhere. This is the first chapter of a five-chaptered story.

 **Warning:** If you would rather have your P&P characters behave the way Jane Austen designed them, you should stop reading now. Especially if you like it when Mr Bingley or Colonel Fitzwilliam are supportive characters. Also, there is some swearing inside.

 **Regarding comments:** I like them all, but keep in mind that I won't be able to answer you if you post as a guest. If you would rather not express your disagreement/concerns/whatever publicly but are willing to discuss, I would welcome a PM from you!

The characters are Austen's, the plot and writing are mine, and I hope the fun will be yours. :-)

* * *

 **The neighbourhood of Meryton, Wednesday 27 November**

The two past months had been eventful in this little area of Hertfordshire. A single man in possession of a good fortune had established himself in the neighbourhood, to the delight of the families who had daughters of marriageable age. The Bennets of Longbourn, where five such young ladies dwelled, had not been the least of which to hope that the newcomer was in want of a wife, and Mr Bingley had indeed showed such an inclination towards the eldest Miss Bennet that her mother had soon considered him as the rightful property of her daughter.

Mr Bingley had not come alone, but his party had not been of much interest to his neighbours. They seemed to consider themselves above the four and twenty local families, and neither their fortunes nor their connections were enough to make the people of Meryton and around disinclined to think that Mr Bingley's sisters and his friend Mr Darcy were exceedingly disagreeable.

Though Mr Bingley only had eyes for Jane Bennet, the other young ladies did not feel in want of company, for a militia had recently arrived in Meryton, where they would be quartered the whole winter, and the presence of the officers enlivened the parties. No young lady feared to be left in want of a partner at a dance, and for the youngest of them, it was enough to make them ecstatic.

Disagreeable events also occurred during this time, at least from the Bennet family's point of view. Miss Bennet had fallen ill when she was visiting Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst at Netherfield, and as soon as she was in better health and back home, the family received the visit of an until then unmet cousin. That serious and pompous young man was in possession, if not of a good fortune, of a fine living; he also was, since Mr Bennet had no sons, the heir of Longbourn. Conscious of the fact his cousins would be without a home after their father's passing, he meant to marry one of them and shared his intentions with their mother. Not reflecting that their characters would not complement each other, Mrs Bennet suggested him to direct his attentions towards her second eldest daughter, Elizabeth. It was not until Mr Bingley threw a ball that the young lady realised the intentions of her cousin and this, along with the fact that her family behaved most dreadfully that evening, resulted in her not fully enjoy the gathering. The fact she had not been able to avoid dancing with Mr Darcy and regretted the absence of Mr Wickham, a charming new officer of the militia, did nothing to improve her mood.

The following day began as the previous one had ended. Mr Collins felt he could not wait before offering marriage to his _fair cousin_ and was soundly rejected. Consequently, Longbourn was in an uproar although Mrs Bennet still held out hope that her daughter could be convinced to change her mind.

A short distance away, unaware of these happenings, Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy rode out together. The younger man planned to go to Town that day for a matter of business and had suggested that his friend accompany him for a while. He had left a note to his youngest sister in order to reassure her should she enquire after their guest.

After a couple of miles, as they were cutting through a wood, Bingley stopped. Darcy looked around but saw nothing of significance. It was just a clearing like any other clearing—its most remarkable feature being an old oak tree on one side of it whose branches descended rather low, inviting passers-by to climb it. Having dismounted, Bingley was currently standing under it, seemingly preoccupied. He was looking alternatively at his watch and at their surroundings as if he expected someone to meet them. Darcy tried to get his friend's attention, to ask him for an explanation, but he seemed oblivious to everything but his survey of the woods and the watch. His attention only focused elsewhere when some noise could be heard above the rustling of the leaves.

 _Did_ he plan to meet someone? But then whom? Maybe Miss Bennet—they _had_ been talking all night during the ball, after all. Darcy was surprised that the lady would agree to such a clandestine meeting but reflected that she might be planning to come with one of her sisters and that _this_ was the reason Bingley wanted him there—to distract the sister while he would be conversing with his _angel_. Torn between annoyance at his friend's secrecy and hope that the sister she would choose to accompany her would be Miss Elizabeth Bennet, he did not hear three riders approach and nearly jumped when he saw two of his cousins dismount not ten feet from him.

Behind Viscount Jeffreys and Colonel Fitzwilliam stood a man in uniform whom he barely acknowledged, deciding it must be the Colonel's batman. After having greeted both his cousins, Darcy exchanged a few words with the Viscount, whom he had not seen for some time. Bingley had also come to greet the newcomers, then stepped aside with the Colonel. It suddenly occurred to Darcy that his friend had not seemed surprised to see the three riders arrive. It even appeared that he had engineered the meeting—but why? They could all have met in Town. It was very strange. Turning towards his friend, he asked:

"Bingley, did you plan—"

The question died on his lips as he stared down the barrel of a gun. Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam, two men he had always considered as close friends, were facing him and the Viscount, smirks on their lips and pistols in hand. A glance revealed that the third man stood in the same attitude, near the horses, curtailing all reasonable hopes of escaping quickly. This could not be happening. The two amiable men he trusted more than anyone in the world could not have morphed into that pair of calculating, cold creatures. Now, it would not be unlike them to have fun at his expense—but why involve the Viscount? While Darcy was still trying to make sense of what he was seeing, his eldest cousin had found his voice at last.

"What the hell is happening here?" he asked angrily.

"Dearest brother," the Colonel answered with a cold smile, "it is happening that you are getting married, and I fear it will not do. I cannot take the risk to let you marry and have sons—it would make me fall too far down the line of succession. I had an interesting discussion with Bingley about this a couple of months ago, and we thought we may as well kill two birds with one stone."

A pregnant silence followed, and it became clear that the Colonel was waiting for his brother to speak before saying anything more.

Unclenching his teeth enough to speak, the Viscount snapped, "Meaning?"

"That not only you will have to disappear, but our _esteemed_ cousin as well."

"Why?"

"After Darcy's tragic death, Bingley will, with my blessings as her guardian, marry Georgiana. Her mourning period will end in one year or so—about the same time as his lease here. He had to lure you in the countryside, but not too far away from London. Netherfield was convenient. You wondered why Bingley leased it instead of searching a place where he could establish himself for good, but it would not have made sense for him to _buy_ an estate when he would gain Pemberley, would it?"

Unlike as in pranks he had pulled on his brother and cousin before, there was no trace of humour in his voice. Bingley's countenance was likewise cold. As much as he wished to believe this was no more than a tasteless joke, Darcy was becoming aware that that explanation was more and more unlikely.

"Bingley," he whispered, finding his voice again. "I thought you were my friend. Why would you do such a thing?"

The younger man shrugged. "Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to see all the young ladies' eyes following you when you enter a room? Not that you notice them of course. Do you even know how many people court your favour, in the hope of being included in your circle? And yet you only associate closely with a handful of people. Such a waste of opportunities."

"I do not understand."

"I happen to believe I would do greater things with your money than you do," Bingley said, shaking his head. "What a waste of wealth with so little gain in status! Spending money on health care for your tenants? Investing in _trade_ ventures? Giving away thousands of pounds in the hopes people would use the money wisely and reform their character?"

The way the last was said, with Bingley gesturing towards their accomplice still standing at a distance with the horses, induced Darcy to at last take a proper look at the third man.

"Wickham!" he spat.

"Wickham? As in your father's steward's son?" said a puzzled Viscount. "My brother introduced him as Mr George … What does he have to gain here?"

"More precisely, how many pounds, Wickham?" Darcy added with sarcasm.

The man shrugged. "Lots. Does that really matter? Fitzwilliam recruited me last spring. I was to elope with your sister, but you foiled that plan."

"Yes," the Colonel took over, turning towards his brother. "I had just heard about your interest for Lady Constance, Henry, and knew it was time to act. Georgiana running away with the steward's son would certainly have prevented the match; your lady's family would have fled from the subsequent gossip such a scandal would generate."

"And what exactly are you planning to do now?" Darcy tried to sound confident, but his _Master of Pemberley_ voice had escaped him.

"I will return to Town as planned, and so will the Colonel," Bingley answered with a grin. "Wickham will keep you company for a while—oh, do not think about fleeing, for we will tie you up nicely before we go—and join his regiment at the end of the day. However, just before that, when we would have had enough time to be back in Town and to be seen there, he will kill you. We thought it would be a nice touch to disguise it as a duel."

"A duel? What reason would we have to fight?"

"Oh, that is simple enough—I will say I heard you disparaging my brother's intended, and that he demanded apologies that you would not make. Nobody would believe that you would _purposely_ fight to the death, of course, but people will assume that you will have gotten carried away in the heat of the moment, as it were."

"Now. Enjoy your last hours on earth, gentlemen." With a nod to Bingley, he added, "If we want to be in London before night, we have to go." And with a mocking salute, both gentlemen left, leaving the two cousins tied together and sitting on the ground. Wickham was eyeing them speculatively. Darcy was thinking of a way to escape when the Viscount spoke.

"You know, Wickham, if it is money you want, I am pretty certain that we can offer you more than they promised."

"True. But I also wish for revenge on Darcy—so I'm afraid I can not take you up on your offer."

"Why do you want to kill us both at the same time?"

"Why would you want to know that?"

"If we are to live only a few hours, I would just as well talk during that time—and I cannot think of another subject more interesting."

"Very well," said Wickham, shrugging. "It is boringly simple—your brother wished me to do the work for him, for he knows enough about me to ensure I would not be able to blackmail him. Bingley did not trust the Colonel enough to rely on his word that he would arrange for me to kill you later, once he had what he wanted."

"But two deaths at some month's interval would have been qualified as a tragic series of accidents, whereas this farce of a duel will only draw undue attention and expose them," exclaimed the Viscount. "People are bound to look more closely at our comings and goings today."

"Oh, no," smiled Wickham. It was not a comforting sight. "It is unlikely any of us will be suspected of anything. Nobody will worry about you for _days_ because here, Darcy, you will be thought to have, on impulse, gone away with your friend, while in London, Bingley will say that you stayed in Netherfield, that you changed your mind about following him to Town. He will send word to your household so that they should not worry when you do not arrive with your trunks."

"But my trunks are not packed, and my staff has no reason at all to expect my return at that time."

"Oh, they will be—Bingley did instruct his sister to see to it when he wrote his note. Your man will be on his way with them, I think, tomorrow at the latest. As for you, my dear Viscount, the Colonel will say that you left him to go somewhere. They think that, by acting this way, it will be some days before your bodies are discovered, and they hope it will help muddle the memories of people, as well as disguise the marks on your bodies."

"How?"

"Our friends—the animals of the forest, of course," he said with a malevolent smile.

Wickham was so focused on his one-upmanship over the two gentlemen in front of him that he did not notice the noise above him before it was too late.

* * *

 **Longbourn, earlier the same day**

When she went down to join her family in the drawing room, Elizabeth Bennet was very calm. Not even the smug face of her mother or the contented one of her cousin could dampen her serenity. Her elder sister, though, seemed worried. As she took her seat beside her sister, Elizabeth clasped her hand.

"Now, Lizzy," she heard her mother say. "We do not have much time to lose, for Mr Collins wishes to be married in six weeks." The tall man nodded with solemnity.

"I fail to understand how it affects me, Mamma," said Elizabeth before picking up her embroidery hoop.

"How you vex me, child! Of course you should have a say in your own wedding arrangements!"

Elizabeth lifted her eyes from her needlework. "I believe I was very clear this morning, as was my father. I will _not_ marry my cousin."

"Have you no pity for me? First, Mr Bingley, then you. What is to become of us once your father is dead?"

"Mr Bingley? What of him?"

"Did you not hear his sisters yesterday? They said they would never allow him to align himself with Jane, and that he would abide their wishes," lamented Mrs Bennet.

Elizabeth was frowning. The last time she saw that gentleman, he only had eyes for Jane. The notion that he would dismiss _her_ sister only to please his made no sense.

"Mamma," said Jane. "I cannot begrudge him for following the wishes of his sisters."

"Pish posh! I cannot see why he should let their wishes interfere with his," a peeved Mrs Bennet answered.

"You cannot have it both ways," her eldest daughter gently—but firmly—answered. "You cannot berate both Mr Bingley for complying with his family's wishes and Lizzy for refusing to do so."

At this, the others fell silent, and before anyone could say a word, Jane rose and announced her intention to take a walk in the garden. She asked Elizabeth to join her, and the two ladies promptly left the room, leaving behind them an indignant mother, an offended cousin, and three bickering sisters—the youngest two were giggling while the other reprimanded them for their indecorous behaviour. Mr Bennet had retreated earlier to his library and later bemoaned the fact that he did not witness that exchange.

Unbeknown to Elizabeth, Jane had agreed to help her mother in her endeavour to make Elizabeth change her mind. She listened at first to her sister's complaints about her mother's insistence and, on seeing some answer was expected, took her cue to present Mrs Bennet's concerns in a more favourable light.

"Lizzy, let me advise you to think better of it. Think how happy you would make my mother, and what happiness you would give to all your family: if you could provide for Mamma and all of us who would be unmarried when our father dies, you can see how it would raise our prospects of a good match—as a suitor would not have to worry about supporting them along with his family. Would it not be worth the inconvenience of having a husband you do not hold in some affection? He seems content to seek his patroness's advice, and I dare say he would be as happy to follow _yours_ also. You could have him mould his conduct to your wishes; this is a luxury few wives can have."

Elizabeth had frozen in her step. Her eyes were wide open and her mouth half so, but she did not utter a sound.

"Lizzy," Jane continued hesitantly. "This might well be the only proposal you shall receive, and ..."

Here she stopped, not knowing how to continue without offending her sister who, shaking herself, spoke at last.

"No, Jane! You cannot think there is any way I could be happy to be married to Mr Collins. Why, I think even _Mr Darcy_ would make me a better husband. He may be infuriating and rude, but at least I am not bored to death or mortified whenever he opens his mouth. His conversation can even be entertaining," she added as an afterthought.

Jane sighed.

"You know I always speak as I find, dearest." She led Elizabeth to a bench where they sat.

"And I am astonished that _this_ is what you think—I would have believed that you would entreat me to never marry without affection. I feel I do not know you at all."

Jane attempted to hug her younger sister, but Elizabeth eluded her and slid to the edge of the bench. Knowing that insisting would only drive her sister away, Jane did not move.

"You do have a tendency to see only the facts you want to see and discard the ones that do not fit with your way of thinking—why, only one week ago you had decided that Mr Darcy must have been cruel towards Mr Wickham, though you had known the former for a longer time and had no knowledge of the latter."

"Mr Wickham did not say anything that Mr Darcy's manners did not corroborate," Elizabeth huffed.

"I fear this is just your stubbornness speaking, Lizzy," said Jane, shaking her head with a smile. "You are proud of your capacity to draw people's characters and dislike to be proven wrong. But back to Mr Collins—I do not want you to make a decision that would make you unhappy. I love you too much for that. However, I think you _could_ be content in a marriage with our cousin: I believe that you might have misjudged him at first too. You are so independent that I fear it is doubtful a gentleman would dare offer for you, even if you had a dowry. And we do not even have that. Only tell me you will think about it."

Elizabeth sighed. "Will you hate me if I persist in deciding against him?"

"Lizzy! I _love_ you. That does not mean I will always agree with your decisions, but neither do I believe that you should always share my opinions. I might sometimes think you are wrong or too hasty in forming an opinion, but I could _never_ hate you."

Elizabeth blinked her eyes to prevent her tears from falling. Unwilling to distress her sister further, Jane rose, kissed her brow gently, and left her sister without waiting for an answer.

Elizabeth was astonished beyond measure. She had known that her mother had asked her sister for help in order to make her change her mind, but she would never have believed that dear sweet Jane, to whom she had confided all her hopes and dreams, would comply. Nor had she thought that Jane could sound so much like Charlotte Lucas. She idly wondered if Jane's interest in Mr Bingley was also shallow and mercenary—but no, she recollected herself. Jane did truly care for him, but must fear he would not offer for her if he thought he would be called to support five additional women sometime in the future. She would not directly say so—and Elizabeth doubted Jane would try to influence her choice more than she already had—but she must feel that if her sister agreed to marry Mr Collins, it would help her to secure Mr Bingley. If anything, his own sisters would not fear an invasion of Bennet ladies should Mr Bennet die.

Could she rate Jane's happiness above her own? Could she risk to ruin, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister? Elizabeth did not think she would get much sleep that night.

However, she soon reflected that marrying Mr Collins would only lead her to resentment—and she could easily imagine herself begrudging Jane her happiness. That would not do. She was not nearly as good as her sister was. _Jane_ would have, without any hesitation, sacrificed herself if the situation was reversed. It was not in her character to suggest that Elizabeth did something that she, herself, would have been unwilling to do. However, the material fact was that the situation was _not_ reversed, and it must be said that even if it had been, Elizabeth would have begged her sister _not_ to marry Mr Collins.

She kept thinking about the situation while resuming her turn of the gardens, and it did not take long for her to feel at peace with her decision. It did not follow, however, that she felt equal to sit with her family—especially her mother—at Longbourn. The only place where she could expect some tranquillity was at her father's side—and _he_ had expressly asked not to be disturbed. She decided to go for a long walk, stopping shortly by the house to change her footwear and grab a book.

Along the way, she continued her musings, this time about what her sister had told her about her character. Jane had pointed out that she had some misplaced pride and gave Mr Darcy's case as an example. The combination of the two points made Elizabeth think of a conversation she had had with that gentleman at Netherfield. _Is my pride under good regulation?_ She had accused him of being vain, but perhaps she was the one guilty of that. She had disliked Mr Darcy from the first, because he had rudely dismissed her, but had she, after that, only looked at him to find fault? It appreared to be Jane's opinion, and Elizabeth began to realise with some annoyance that her sister might have been right—perhaps she was guilty of doing the very thing she had accused the gentleman.

It did not matter much, for even if Mr Bingley came back to Jane she would not meet with his friend often, but she resolved to treat him more fairly and to rely on more than first impressions to form a judgement in the future. Here she thought of Mr Wickham—she had also decided, at first glance, that he must be amiable. And indeed he was—but now that she thought about their conversation, she detected some inconsistencies. Would she have done so had Jane not opened her eyes?

Well—maybe she would end an old maid, but perhaps she would be a less foolish one.

Elizabeth had walked in a direction she did not usually follow and, with her mind so occupied, found herself at a clearing she had not visited in a long while—since the day her mother had kept her in the house for a week after she fell from one of the nearby trees.

That tree was still here, and five years had not altered its appearance. Feeling defiant that morning, Elizabeth, after ensuring no one would see her, endeavoured to discover if her favourite seat was still as comfortable as she remembered. She planned to settle in the branches for a while with the book she had blindly selected that morning.

Alas, nothing went according to plan. First, she had taken a volume of _poetry_ , of all things! As if she was not sick with all love-related matters for today. Second, sitting in a tree was not as fun or as comfortable as she remembered. And third, as she decided to begin her descent, two riders entered the clearing. She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like an unladylike curse when she recognised them. _Will I never be free of Mr Darcy?_ But some minutes later, she began to think that Providence might have sent her up that tree after all.

Mr Bingley and the other gentleman had left, and Mr Wickham—how stupid had she been to believe him—had been pacing while he talked to the others. He stood now right under where Elizabeth was perched. Deciding that she might not have another chance to intervene, she jumped.

Nine stone of young lady and accessories landing on one's back as they fall to the ground is enough to knock the wind out of most people, and Wickham was no exception. Elizabeth did not wait to see whether he was conscious or not but ran to the two other men and untied them as quickly as she could. The Viscount was freed first. He jumped to his feet and hurried to the prone man's side to ensure he could not reach for his pistol. Darcy gathered the ropes, but could not help glancing now and then at Elizabeth. If not for the pain in his wrists, he would have sworn he was dreaming, and he could not fathom how the young lady had materialised in the clearing, appearing to fall from heaven. Shaking his head, he joined his cousin, and they bound Wickham's hands and feet to prevent his escape. The scoundrel must have passed out earlier, for as they were finishing, he was stirring and regaining his senses.

"Damn tree, damn branches! I did not hear that one creak." Wickham sat gingerly, cursing again on noticing the ropes that now restricted his movements. He looked around him slowly and frowned. "Where is it?"

The other two gentlemen looked at each other, knitting their brows.

"What are you speaking of?"

"The bloody branch, of course. I swear I heard some noise up the tree, and then I was struck—a limb must have broken." He was still looking around his surroundings, and his eyes narrowed on seeing Elizabeth standing a dozen feet away, hugging herself.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"Oh, you know the lady? I would welcome an introduction," the Viscount said as if nothing in their situation was amiss.

"We both know her," Darcy answered, shaking his head at his cousin's flippancy. "Miss Bennet, let me introduce to you Henry Fitzwilliam, Viscount Jeffreys, my eldest cousin. Henry, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn."

The Viscount made an impeccable bow, while Elizabeth's curtsy was far from flawless. Her shaking was increasing though there was no more danger, and she began to feel a dull pain in her ankle. She struggled not to fall as the pain increased when she felt a steadying hand at her elbow. She glanced down to it, then up the arm it belonged to, and met the concerned eyes of Mr Darcy. Was his concern directed to her?

Now, if she could just stop shaking, recover her wits, and lead the two men home, or to Netherfield. Or maybe they would want to leave for London as soon as they could. She shifted her weight on her ankle, and could not contain a yelp as she winced, drawing her buttress's attention.

"Miss Bennet, are you hurt? What is the matter?"

"'Tis nothing, I have hurt my ankle—I did not feel it earlier, but it is hurting now."

Darcy glanced up the tree. "Where were you sitting?"

Elizabeth pointed to one of the branches, and Darcy blanched. "It is above ten feet from the ground—you could have gotten yourself killed! What were you _thinking_?"

"I was thinking of something to do so that _you_ would not get _yourself_ killed," she hissed back.

Before Darcy could answer, his cousin, on seeing that the gentleman was about to argue further, interjected.

"Maybe we should not stay here—it looks like rain, and your foot will need to be tended anyway. Is your home very far from here?"

Elizabeth shook her head and extended her arm. "It is about half a mile in that direction."

The Viscount nodded and turned towards his cousin. "We should go—but we will be quicker on our horses. Yours is fresher than mine, so I suggest you take Miss Bennet."

"Could I not borrow Mr Wickham's horse?" Elizabeth was not enthusiastic at the idea of sharing anything with Mr Darcy—be it a horse or a dance.

"No—he will need his as he is coming with us. We should not leave him here, and besides, I want him to share with us what he knows about this."

"Why makes you think he will comply?" said Darcy.

"Money."

"That is worth trying," Darcy agreed after a half-laugh to himself. "Shall we move? This will certainly be a long discussion, and I would rather have it in a well-heated drawing room than in a cold, damp wood."

"I am in full agreement with you," his cousin said and turned towards Wickham. "I am going to untie you. Do not think about doing anything stupid."

The man meekly nodded. But this was Wickham: as soon as he was free, he knocked the Viscount down, jumped on his horse and raced towards Meryton at a wicked pace. From his prone position, his former captor swore, and Darcy, who was still supporting an injured Elizabeth, watched him disappear with dismay.

"At least he is not running after Bingley and your brother," he drily commented. "What are we to do about him now?"

"I fear we have to let him go—I do not think he will linger in the neighbourhood. It would be a foolish thing to do in his situation. Miss Bennet, will you direct us?"

"I will—but are you certain we cannot walk?"

" _You_ cannot," said Mr Darcy. Before she could protest, he had lifted her and sat her on his horse, and her hands gripped its mane. "Now, if you are uncomfortable with the idea that we ride together, _I_ will walk. The sky does not seem so very threatening—I think we will manage to arrive at Longbourn before the rain. If it begins to fall earlier, we will adjust our arrangements. Does that suit you?"

Elizabeth nodded, his cousin shrugged, and the party began its way towards Longbourn. Perched atop a horse, with nothing to do but point in the correct direction when there was a choice to be made between two paths, she had ample time to reflect further on her past relationship with Mr Darcy. Her dislike of the man could have been irrational, and it seemed that she had been at fault in sketching at least two other characters recently. She had stayed at Netherfield during Jane's illness and, on the occasions when she was with the residents of the house, had argued the opposite position from Mr Darcy whenever she had the opportunity to do so without being overtly impolite.

Perhaps she should apologise to the gentleman for her impertinence. As soon as she had resolved she might do so, she decided she would not. She had misjudged the characters of both Wickham and Bingley. Mr Darcy had been betrayed by close friends, but that did not absolve him of his rude behaviour and his arrogance. What she should do was to thank him for his warning regarding Mr Wickham—she might not have heeded it, but it was a moot point now. Clearly, whatever the truth was regarding the matter of the living, it was Mr Wickham who had treated the Darcys ill recently.

The weather held, and as Mr Darcy was a good walker, they arrived at Longbourn before she had said anything. A groom hurried to take the two horses, and they entered a very calm house. Elizabeth enquired after her family, and was told that her father was in his study, and two of her sisters in the music room—she could indeed hear Mary playing scales. Mrs Bennet and her younger daughters had gone to Meryton, and Mr Collins was at Lucas Lodge at the invitation of Charlotte Lucas.

Elizabeth, whose pain had eased during the ride, was able now to walk alone—if somewhat gingerly—and so made her way up the stairs to her father's study. When she knocked at the door, a peevish voice informed her that he had had enough agitation for the day and wished to be left in peace. On seeing Elizabeth's dismayed face, Viscount Jeffreys decided that there was no need to inform the master of the house of the situation for now and that it would actually be better if he and Darcy were able to speak privately about what exactly should be shared. He thus enquired whether there was another room he and his cousin could use. Elizabeth directed them to the breakfast parlour and, feeling unequal to the company of her sisters, told them she planned to settle in the adjoining drawing room. After Mrs Hill had brought them tea, the cousins began to discuss their plans.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth had resumed her needlework and was embroidering a handkerchief whilst resting her foot on a stool, when a commotion was heard in the hall. The Bennet ladies had returned from town, and excitement was evident in their voices. Kitty and Lydia were giggling, as was their wont when there was some shocking piece of gossip to share, but what surprised Elizabeth was that Mrs Bennet did not join them.

"Oh, we are ruined!" she cried. "Mr Bennet, you _must_ make him marry her."

Elizabeth frowned. She had hoped her mother had abandoned her matchmaking scheme by now—not that she would agree to marry Mr Collins in any case. Her sisters entered the parlour at that very moment.

"Oh, _there_ you are," said Lydia, bouncing with excitement.

"Wickham has resigned his commission and has left Meryton in a great hurry," Kitty sighed unhappily.

Elizabeth pinched her lips. _Ha. Not very surprising._

"And you have been very sly, Lizzy!"

"What are you speaking about?"

"La! Everyone in town knows that you have been secretly meeting with Mr Darcy in the woods."

The colour drained from Elizabeth's face. There was no need to be a bluestocking to know who the source of this information was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Note:** thank you for the lovely reviews! It has been noted that Jane is out of character - yes, inasmuch as she doesn't think one should not marry without affection. Otherwise, I tried to write her close to her canon self (and she would have accepted to marry Collins, had he asked). I also kind of tried to keep Bingley in character, except he's not genuinely good-natured and he's being led by someone bad this time. He won't have much more screen time, though. :-)

* * *

In the breakfast parlour, the first thing Darcy and his cousin had done when assured of their privacy had been to express their shock about the betrayal they had suffered. After they had comforted each other, they had discussed their plans and had come to the conclusion that they had to speak with the Earl before proceeding with anything against either Bingley or Colonel Fitzwilliam. Regarding their own future security, the Viscount believed that it would be better for them both to be married sooner than later. His own wedding was set for some weeks hence, and he did not feel the need to push forward the date, as it would raise too many questions, but Darcy needed a bride, and soon.

"You will not be completely safe until Georgiana is married, preferably into a powerful family, but your marriage should make them reconsider their scheme and, with luck, by that time you and I will already have an heir on the way. I know that you had probably not planned to marry so soon—but you must see that it will help thwart their ambitions."

Darcy nodded. The Viscount had been expecting a fight, or at least some protestations from his cousin who was known for his abhorrence of the marriage mart, and wondered why he acquiesced so readily.

"Good. We must away to Town and select you a wife as soon as possible."

Here Darcy shook his head. Viscount Jeffreys watched him in disbelief, pondering what he could be playing at when they were distracted by Mrs Bennet's wails coming from the hall. The door was closed, but some of her words were surprisingly clear. "... Meeting in the woods ... All ruined ... Lizzy ..." Darcy tilted his head towards the door whilst raising his eyebrows, and his cousin's eyes widened in recognition.

"You cannot be thinking about marrying Miss Bennet?"

Darcy shrugged. "She saved our lives and, given what her mother says, will be in want of a husband."

"Darcy! I admit we owe her a lot but, still, you heard the same thing as I did: the girl was secretly meeting someone in the woods. You cannot mean to marry someone of such low morals!"

Darcy scowled. "You disappoint me, Henry. I want to believe that this momentary lack of cleverness is due to over-exhaustion." At his cousin's blank stare, he added. "I would bet Georgiana's dowry that the rendezvous that was spoken about is nothing else than our meeting earlier today."

"But how would people know ... Oh. Wickham." The Viscount was the one scowling now. "I suppose that you are right—if it is indeed that situation that got her in trouble, the girl does not deserve to be ruined for having saved us. Allow me to make some inquiries—"

"They would not yield anything—Miss Elizabeth is a very proper young lady—"

"Who likes to climb on trees—"

"Which proves she was not meeting anyone."

"If you say so. Still, you could have done so much better ..."

"Not if I am dead," Darcy retorted. His cousin shrugged.

"I suppose that since you met each other from time to time at social functions here, you might be able to pretend that you had been forming an attachment. It would be less scandalous that way. Now, we have to find some way to explain how it did not translate into you singling her out ..."

"I danced with her," explained Darcy helpfully.

"What? Of your own free will?"

"Yes. At Bingley's ball. I had asked her at other gatherings, but she would not accept me then. And, ten days ago, she stayed at Netherfield to tend to her sick sister; we did have several conversations during that time. Miss Bingley teased me because I had praised Miss Bennet's eyes earlier."

The Viscount was speechless at first and then smiled widely. "Well—since you _do_ like her, the ton will not wonder much at your alliance." On seeing Darcy's doubtful mien, he added, "I do not say they will easily accept her as one of theirs. Nevertheless, I think people will merely think you were foolish to have made an alliance with someone without fortune and connections. Perhaps she will be thought to be after yours. But the fact you offered for her will not surprise our circle too much if you do not hide the fact you admire your wife. You will still have to wed quickly; maybe this bit of local scandal may help you in accelerating the process without people wonder too much about your reasons."

Mrs Bennet was heard again, apparently coming down the stairs. Guessing that she intended to confront her second eldest daughter, the cousins also decided to go to the drawing room where the lady could be found.

When they stepped into the hall, they saw Mrs Bennet all but dragging her daughter upstairs to her husband's study, and they decided to follow. Though eavesdropping was something any gentleman should frown upon, in this instance they felt the situation was serious enough to justify such a breach in deportment. The door had remained open and, by unspoken agreement, they loitered at the doorway.

From what they could witness, Mr Bennet was not happy to have his reading interrupted.

"Lizzy, if I understand your mother correctly, you have been secretly meeting Mr Darcy in the woods, the last of these assignations being today?"

"It is not true, Father. I did not meet Mr Darcy on purpose. I was reading, up on the old oak tree—"

"Up a tree! Oh, my nerves!"

"When ..." Here Elizabeth hesitated. What should she say? In the end, she decided to go for the truth. "Five men met in the clearing—Mr Darcy, Mr Bingley, Mr Wickham and two strangers. Mr Darcy and one of the newcomers were threatened by the other three, and then only Mr Wickham remained with them, intending to kill them once his accomplices were far away enough. I managed to stop him, but then he fled, and I now gather that he has been busy spreading gossip."

Mr Bennet rolled his eyes. "Mr Bingley, you say? I fear nobody would believe him to be so very bad, or even to be able to stand up to his friend. They would rather think you are making up a story to cover for your own indiscretion."

"Father!"

At the doorway, Mr Darcy's countenance darkened and, if his cousin had not put his hand on his arm at that moment, he would have stormed into the room.

"I did not have a secret assignation in the woods with Mr Darcy ... or anyone, for that matter! How could people, how could you believe that?" Elizabeth coloured in anger. "You—they—have known me for my entire life—you should know I would not ... I am not—"

"Enough, Lizzy. I realise you would not be so foolish, but the truth is not relevant here. You underestimate the attraction gossip can have, and you know better than to be climbing trees at your age."

To this, Elizabeth had no ready answer. What exactly did her father mean? She felt herself near tears and held to her pride in order not to let any fall.

"You must make Mr Darcy marry her! Or convince Mr Collins to ask her again," her mother insisted.

"I refuse to even consider the latter. Now, if Mr Darcy asked for Lizzy's hand, it would be ideal; but since it is doubtful the man would agree to such a scheme, I will not trouble myself to demand that he does so. Consequently, nothing should be told about this tale of Lizzy's—at all—and we should go back to our lives. It will be unpleasant for a while, but when people see we are acting as we usually do, it will all settle down after a few days, weeks at most."

Darcy had had enough. "I disagree, Sir."

Three pairs of eyes turned towards the man who suddenly took a step forward, entered the room, and faced the young lady.

"Miss Elizabeth, I will forever be grateful for your intervention. Since, because of it, you are now in some predicament yourself—it would be my honour to marry you." Turning towards Mr Bennet, he continued: "Will you give your consent, sir?"

"Oh, we are saved!" Mrs Bennet suddenly shrilled and blathered on. "How clever you were, Lizzy. Of course, you could not accept Mr Collins, not if you could marry someone as rich as Mr Darcy! You and your friend will stay for dinner, yes?" And on these words, she rushed out of the room, intending to speak to her cook immediately.

"But I do not want to marry!" Elizabeth cried out in frustration.

Mr Bennet was now scowling. "This is the most sensible thing to do. The gossip will die more quickly that way, my dear. I do not think I would be able to refuse you anything, in any case, sir. It is decided. May I recover the use of my library now?"

"But, Papa—"

"Enough, Elizabeth. I said out. Had you acted in a more ladylike manner, you would not be in this situation. Have you ever thought how it could affect your sisters' reputations? Even Lydia's foolishness would not endanger it so. Anyway, if I allowed you to refuse another offer, your mother would never leave me in peace. You have left me no choice: you will marry Mr Darcy."

Fighting the impulses of berating Mr Bennet for his disdain of his daughter's feelings and taking an ashen Miss Elizabeth in his arms to comfort her, Darcy asked instead that Mr Bennet put his consent in writing, for he intended to ride to Saint Albans shortly in order to procure a common license. Mr Bennet complied easily, having reasoned that since his daughter would probably complain during all the length of her engagement, and his wife would talk of nothing but their good fortune and lace and fabric until the day of the wedding, that event should be as soon as possible. After having put the letter into his coat pocket, Darcy offered his arm to Elizabeth, and the three young people made their way back downstairs.

"Saint Albans, Darcy?"

"Longbourn Parish falls under the Diocese of London's authority. We should avoid being spotted in London for the time being, so we must seek one of the bishop's substitutes. I learned earlier this month that one could be found at Saint Albans. "

"It's a pity that going to Town cannot be considered—it would have been so easy to jump on to the first mail coach."

Darcy nodded.

"We still have time to travel today. Your horse will need to rest, so I think we should leave it and mine at the local posting inn and take fresh horses there. We should arrive this evening or tomorrow. I hope we can depart on Saturday morning and return here in the evening. If more time is needed, we will send word to Longbourn and return sometime next week."

While the two cousins made plans, Elizabeth endeavoured to think rationally about the situation. Mr Darcy certainly was an improvement over Mr Collins, but it did not follow she wished to have him for her husband. Still, she was not sure she could live with the daily disapproval of her choice by her family. Jane's earlier reaction was proof that, though she would not blame her should she refuse to marry Mr Darcy, neither would she offer adequate consolation or understanding. And since marrying the gentleman from Derbyshire would, upon reflexion, not make her any more miserable than never marrying at all, perhaps it would be best to accept his proposal.

Now, should she inform Mr Darcy of her struggles? Elizabeth doubted a declaration of that kind would be well received. She could do nothing but sigh, which prompted her betrothed to speak.

"Elizabeth? Are you unwell? Is there any way I could help you?"

"Why would you think I am not well?"

"Your eyes," he entreated. "They are not as bright as they usually are."

She looked at him, wondering how it was that he could read her emotions so well and yet not know her at all, and began to cry.

He stood awkwardly next to her as if trying to decide what he should do, and eventually held out his handkerchief to her. She mumbled her thanks and, having somewhat quietened, gave him the explanation she thought he deserved.

"I am disappointed in my father."

He looked at her worriedly—but was it out of concern for her, or for himself? She took a deep breath and continued.

"I thought he would always listen to me, but it seems his comfort comes first."

She seemed far away and a bit melancholy.

"Tell me what I can do."

"Do you still wish to marry me?"

"Of course," he said, surprised. "Why would you believe otherwise?"

"Circumstances led you to propose—I understand you are grateful, but is it prudent to tie yourself for life to someone you barely know?"

"But we do know each other. It is not as if we just met—alliances have been built on much shorter acquaintances."

She fell silent, not knowing what to answer—she barely knew what to think. Darcy continued more gently.

"I am rather fond of you, Elizabeth, and I greatly enjoy your company. I believe we will be quite happy together."

Elizabeth pinched her lips but nodded nonetheless. She wondered if she should protest his use of her given name when Mr Darcy took her hand.

"I will go to apply for the license. When I am back, I will also present your father with a draft for a settlement. I will not be able to have my man of business write it, but do you think your uncle could do so?"

"He could, but you seem to forget something, sir."

"Elizabeth?"

"I have not accepted you yet."

"Very true, Miss Bennet," he chuckled. "Will you give me your answer?"

Though his confidence annoyed her, she owned that, given the circumstances, he was justified in not expecting a refusal. As frightening as it was to jump into the unknown, she felt there was only one answer she could give.

"Yes, Mr Darcy. I will marry you."

He kissed her hand and smiled. She was reminded of other times he had smiled at her, and wondered if she had read him so ill—perhaps he had liked discussing with her at Netherfield. Perhaps she would not have to curb her manners once she was married, as she knew Mr Collins would have expected. This was a comforting thought. The voice of her betrothed cut into her musings.

"Before I go, do you have a preference regarding the date? I would have liked to discuss it with your father, but you should have a say in the decision."

She shrugged. "Whenever you wish will be suitable for me."

He smiled. "My preference would be for the earliest possible date; immediately after the licence has been purchased, or maybe a week after that. But I thought young ladies all need some time to have a trousseau made, plan the wedding breakfast, pack their things, and enjoy their time as a betrothed lady in their neighbourhood."

She tried to smile back, but it was wavering at best and did not reach her eyes. "Given the circumstances, I would rather bypass that kind of merriment. If we marry the week after next, it will give my aunt and uncle enough time to travel here; besides their presence, I have no other wish for the wedding."

Darcy nodded and then leant in and gently kissed Elizabeth's temple. She looked at him in surprise as he straightened his posture and said:

"Would Wednesday suit you?"

She nodded. Viscount Jeffreys, who had gone to the other side of the room in order to give the young couple some privacy, came back to make his goodbyes to Elizabeth and added:

"I hope we will be back on Saturday. Do you think your family will be able to host us, or would it be better for us to stay at an inn?"

Elizabeth shook herself. She felt as if she was experiencing a dream. "Our cousin should be gone by then. If you see no inconvenience in sharing a room once my London relatives join us, then it is settled."

"Did you just say we, Henry?"

"You will need a witness for your wedding, Cousin. As well as some kind of familial endorsement. I do not know what my father and mother will make of this, but Aunt Catherine will be livid."

"I can imagine so," mumbled Elizabeth.

"How—"

"Her parson. My cousin. Visiting."

"Oh."

"What will we tell your parents, Henry? We cannot leave them in the dark regarding their son's actions."

"I would rather tell them in person—but I think we must get you married first. My brother is no threat as long as he believes we are dead, and it would be much more complicated for him to make a spouse disappear than to kill you and me before we are wed. I will be married before Christmas as planned—I will warn my parents as soon as we are in London again, after your wedding."

"And how soon do you believe I should be married?"

"One day or so after we are back at most. If all goes well, Monday. You will have to ask your vicar to make an announcement on Sunday after services."

Glancing at Elizabeth to see how badly she reacted to this news, Darcy saw her squaring her jaw—probably trying to contain her anger at a perceived slight. He had no doubt she would be pleased with the eventual outcome—what lady would not rejoice to become Mrs Darcy?—but the situation in which they found themselves was unpleasant, to say the least, and he imagined his betrothed did not like to be rushed more than he was.

"I am sorry, Elizabeth. I know this is not what you wished for."

The lady started and, after looking at him, ran away. He sighed, but before he could react, his cousin spoke.

"We should be on our way, Darcy."

"Do you plan to accompany me to Saint Albans?"

"Yes—I cannot impose on the Bennets, and you will appreciate the company on the road."

"As you wish—give me just a moment, I wish to leave Elizabeth a note. Will you tell Mrs Bennet we will not stay for dinner as planned?"

"As she had planned alone," laughed the Viscount. "I will do that."

Left by himself, Darcy thought about his cousin's parting words. _We have decided that Elizabeth and I should marry—but nobody gave her any options, or took her protestation into account._ He had proposed formally, but given the circumstances, she could not do anything but accept him. It was no wonder she was upset. Elizabeth did not strike him as someone who liked to be told what to do. Perhaps they should have asked her to be part of their breakfast room meeting—that could have been viewed as improper, but taking part in the decisions they had made might have helped her not to be as much distressed as she now was. If anything, knowing that her feelings would be taken into consideration would have made the whole situation easier to accept for her.

Sitting at a desk, he quickly penned a few sentences, then gave the message to the servant who handed him his coat, directing him to give it immediately to Miss Elizabeth. He went outside to wait for his cousin, and they departed soon afterwards.


	3. Chapter 3

**Dear readers** , thank you again for the comments! It's introspection time for a couple characters. :-)

Additional note: thanks a **lot** to tarlily for pointing I forgot a "not" somewhere in the letter.

* * *

 _Dear Elizabeth,_

 _I hope you are feeling better. I realise how upsetting it must be for you to have had no say in the decisions that have just been made. Believe me, I wish it had been done differently—but now it is done, and done for the best. I cannot find it in me to regret the outcome of these events, but I am excessively sorry that you have basically been handed from the authority of one man to that of another without having a say in the matter. One does not decide who one's father is, but you should have had a choice regarding your husband. As independent as you are, that could not have been easy to accept._  
 _Be assured that I will seek your advice in the future—and if I fail to do so, please feel free to tell me that. I will never resent you for speaking your mind._  
 _We should be back on Saturday with a common licence and, as my cousin said, it would be wiser for us to marry as soon as possible. I do rely on you to take care of the local gossip—your knowledge of the local people is better than mine, and I hope that you will easily convince them that we have been courting for some time. The few days you stayed at Netherfield under the same roof as myself might be of use there._

 _Yours etc.,_  
 _FD_

Elizabeth had been reading again the note Darcy had left her the day before. She wondered more than once what the _F_ stood for. His letter had alleviated some of her concerns about accepting him. She still was not _happy_ to be made to marry him, but since his character had revealed itself to be better than she had previously thought and since he apparently cared for her, it was a better alternative than staying at home and being ostracised by her neighbours. Her mother would never forgive her, and she did not think she could cope with her laments about them being all ruined and doomed to a life of poverty in a hopefully distant future. Mr Darcy was right regarding both the necessity to make their previous relationship appear of more consequence than it had actually been and about the relative easiness of such a plan. Charlotte Lucas had noticed that he watched her often and had advised her to make herself agreeable to a man of his consequence, so it would not be a stretch for her friend to believe she had followed her advice. She might even succeed in making people think that she had been so outspoken against Darcy because she feared disappointed hopes when, given the difference in their stations, nothing came from their acquaintance. Yes, gossip could easily be quelled—alas, she _had_ to marry him for that to happen.

And she did not even know his given name.

She was angry that her life had taken such an unwanted turn, and on such short notice. She thought she would be content, but wondered if she would be happy. It _was_ relieving to know that he seemed to value her advice and care for her feelings—unlike her father, apparently. Mr Darcy had never given her any reason to doubt his word, and she hoped that her trust was not misplaced.

Her musings were interrupted by the entrance of Hill, who told her that Mr Bennet requested her presence in his study. She promptly complied. He had been reading but must have put his book down when he heard her knock. He had shadows under his eyes, and his brow was creased.

"Come here, child. How are you feeling?"

Elizabeth shrugged, not trusting herself to answer. As she took a seat near him, she felt her anger increase: how could he ask that question when her predicament had been of _his_ doing? If he believed he could cajole her into acceptance of the situation, or that she would welcome any attempt to make light of it, he did not know her as well as he thought. With the back of her hand, she quickly wiped a few tears away. Her father patted her shoulder.

"I fear I am to blame for your unhappiness. Yesterday had been too rich in events to my liking, and my patience had come to an end. No—do not interrupt me. A night of reflexion has made me realise that I was most unfair towards you, and I am dissatisfied with my decision to force you into marriage. The situation remains the same as yesterday, though. If I allow you to refuse this offer, your mother will never leave me in peace. Nevertheless, I would weather her recriminations if you thought you could not esteem Mr Darcy or look at him as your superior. I would be grieved to see _you_ unable to respect your partner in life."

"You would support me if I broke the engagement?" It seemed too good to be true.

"I would. But I wish for you to only do so if you truly thought you would be miserable in this marriage."

Elizabeth nodded but did not answer until her father prodded her. "I cannot say that I do, sir … think so, that is. But I am afraid of marrying a man I do not love or even know. I must own he intrigues me, but I am still endeavouring to sketch his character."

"The man is so taciturn and sombre that it would be difficult for him to speak often enough for you to form an opinion," said Mr Bennet with a twitch of his lips.

"Oh, not at all. We had a number of conversations at Netherfield, but they left me more puzzled than anything, I suppose."

"You spoke together, did you?" Mr Bennet's eyebrows rose high. "And how did you find his conversation?"

"Frustrating. Challenging. Entertaining, to some degree. We had more than a few interesting debates."

"That relieves my mind a great deal, Lizzy."

"Does that mean you wish for me to marry him after all?"

"You are still free to break the betrothal," her father chuckled, "but I think it would not be wise—and I do not refer to the current gossip. You just told me this young man valued your intellect. That is not something you could find easily in another gentleman, and I begin to think you have every chance to find happiness as Mr Darcy's wife."

"And if I disagreed and jilted him?"

"As I just said, you are free to do so. Your mother would loudly complain about your unladylike behaviour leading you and the family into a difficult situation, and you would likely end a spinster—but the tittle-tattle would settle after a while. I also suppose the gossip would not be so dire if it were known Mr Darcy has actually made you an offer."

He patted his daughter on the shoulder again and added: "Now, you do not need to decide at once. Your Mr Darcy won't be back until tomorrow or the day after, so just think about it and about what—in your opinion—is more likely to lead to your happiness, without reference to any other person."

Feeling as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, Elizabeth hugged her father and retreated to the drawing room. Once seated, she took out her letter and read it again. Her father might have been right—Darcy seemed to be willing to treat her as a partner, and it was by no way a given thing that she would find such a disposition in another suitor. It was not even certain she would have another suitor at all should she decide against him. Would it be prudent to break the engagement? Her father told her she had the time to decide, but if she wanted her version of the story to be spread, she must act quickly, and thus choose her future now.

She had put the letter away and was about to go for a walk when Jane entered the room. She appeared very sad and held a letter in her hand, which had been written in an elegant, feminine script Elizabeth recognised as belonging to Miss Bingley.

"Jane? Have you received bad news?"

"This is from Miss Bingley—she says they are all gone from Netherfield and that they will not come back this winter."

This was welcome news for Elizabeth, but she could hardly say so to Jane when she had yet to share the news that Mr Bingley was not to be trusted after all. Jane sighed unhappily.

"In truth, what hurts me more is that she hints that her brother has formed another attachment."

"Does she?"

"Read it for yourself," said Jane, handing her the letter.

Miss Bingley was more than hinting at the partiality her brother might have for Mr Darcy's sister, and Elizabeth refrained from smiling. _Poor Miss Bingley—another wish that will not come to pass._

"Jane," she crooned, covering her sister's hand with hers. "Maybe it is for the best that he has gone now. If he is so free with his admiration, how could you have borne it as his wife? You would have been heartbroken to see your husband flirt with another—even if he meant nothing by it. You should not allow his departure to make you unhappy."

Jane sighed again.

"Yes, I was wrong about him—but please, do not begrudge me if I do not visit with you early in your marriage. I am sorry to disappoint you, but I could not countenance meeting him so soon; I could not do so with any equanimity."

"I feel certain that Mr Bingley will not be allowed in our homes when you are there. You will be able to come as often as you please. Do say you _will_ come. I know for a fact that Mr Darcy has no wish for a closer connection to the Bingleys." _If anything, he will want to put as much distance as he can between himself and them._

"Does he?" Jane sighed. "You have been very secretive lately. I ... I would have liked you to tell me about your growing regard for Mr Darcy. You told me nothing of it when we walked together yesterday. I think you might have hinted at this ... but still, your betrothal came as a shock, my dear sister. Why did you let me berate you for refusing our cousin when you had a perfectly natural reason to do so?"

Taking hold of Elizabeth's hand, she added: "Please do not think that I refer to their respective fortunes, as I guess Mamma would. Were they reversed, the best alliance you could make was the one in which there was some affection."

"I know fortune is the least thing you have in mind," answered Elizabeth, gripping her sister's hand tightly. "And I did not conceal anything from you. We only became engaged later that day. Truth be told, it came as a shock to me too."

"Lizzy! Be serious," chided Jane as they laughed together. "I know you would not agree to marry a man whom you did not respect, I cannot already have forgotten that. I also thought that you would _never_ do something so improper as purposely meeting with a man in secret and without a chaperone—I can only suppose that your heart has overruled your good sense in such a case as this."

"Jane, it is not at all what you think. It is true I met Mr Darcy—and his cousin—yesterday morning, but this was not at all premeditated, and wholly providential."

Realising her sister was in earnest, Jane fretted. "Heavens—did you encounter some trouble, and did Mr Darcy rescue you?"

"It was the other way around, dearest," Elizabeth answered with a smile. "Mr Darcy and his cousin were in trouble, and I helped them. I did not think that it would have such consequences, though."

"Mr Wickham must have been travelling there by happenstance and seen something he misinterpreted."

"No—he was very much involved, he—" Elizabeth stopped and took a deep breath before going on. "Jane, he did more than see something. I do not quite know how to say it gently—he had been paid to kill them." Jane's eyes widened in horror. This was a shock to her, who would rather have lived her whole life without knowing that so much wickedness could exist.

"Who would do such a thing, Lizzy? Why?"

"From my vantage point yesterday, I was able to learn the identity of all the men present and overhear their conversation, so that question I can partly answer. Who? Viscount Jeffreys' younger brother was one of them—wishing to be next in line for the earldom. And the other one was Mr Bingley. I am so sorry."

"Mr Bingley?" Jane's voice was barely audible. "Why? Why would he do such a ... Oh!" She glanced at Miss Bingley's letter and paled even more. "I suppose that whoever marries Miss Darcy once her brother is dead would be practically assured to obtain Mr Darcy's fortune and the familial estate …"

Elizabeth nodded, but her eyes did not leave Jane.

"How awful! How truly horrible! There _must_ be some sort of misunderstanding somewhere—are you _certain_ you heard correctly?"

"Alas, yes. You can well imagine how foolish I felt when I realised that I thought Mr Bingley and Mr Wickham to be good people solely because they had good manners—and that likewise, I decided Mr Darcy must be dishonourable because he was rude and thought me barely _tolerable_. In the first two gentlemen's character, we were most unhappily deceived. I shall never judge people's characters so quickly again."

They sat side by side in silence and, on observing her sister, Elizabeth decided that she would indeed continue with her engagement, if only for her sister's sake. Jane needed to get away from Longbourn and perhaps, if she moved in another circle, she would meet and fall in love with someone of worth— _moral_ worth. None of the young men in Hertfordshire had been interested in marrying Jane, presumably because of her lack of dowry—certainly, all were attracted to her beauty and goodness—but thankfully none had touched her heart before she met Mr Bingley. Neither had she expressed an interest in any of the young men she had encountered in Town while residing with the Gardiners. Elizabeth did not know how much marrying Mr Darcy would contribute to her own happiness, but if she could use her position to make Jane happy, it would certainly add to it. She did not have any doubt, though, that she would be content being Mrs Darcy—contrarily to her cousin, her betrothed was neither a stupid man nor one she could not respect.

On realising how her stance had radically changed from the one she held the day before when the situation was almost the same but only the prospective groom was different, she chuckled.

"Lizzy?"

"I was just thinking about our conversation—was it only yesterday? I had spoken in jest when I said Mr Darcy would make a better husband than Mr Collins, and now we are engaged."

"Do you truly think you could be happy with him? This _is_ the same situation, after all."

"It would be, were it not for the fact that I _do_ respect Mr Darcy. I believe I might come to care for him and feel certain I would not be unhappy—and, for now, this is enough."

As her sister looked at her apprehensively, Elizabeth added: "Truly, this is not the same situation: Mr Collins thought I should be grateful for his offer while Mr Darcy made his to me because of his gratitude. And he is his own master—I will not have to contend with an overbearing patroness for the running of my home. The more I think about it, the more I believe I have every chance of happiness. I only wish I had more time before we are to be married, in order to know him better. However, I have no doubt that all will be well in the end. Do not worry."

Jane threw a sad glance at Miss Bingley's letter and sighed.

"I wish Mr Bingley had never singled me out. You would not be in such a situation if our cousin's attentions had been directed towards me. Perhaps they still can be. I will ask Mamma to tell him something to that effect."

"I forbid you to act in such a way, Jane! We do not need Mr Collins to secure our future, and though you would be able to see him in a good light and be content as his wife, I do not wish to have him as a brother. Besides, if Mr Collins had proposed to you instead of me, I would not have climbed up the oak tree and—"

Elizabeth stopped abruptly, took a deep breath, and rose. "Enough of this talk. I think it is still early enough for a walk to Meryton. Would you care to accompany me?"

"What would be your intention in going there?"

"Why, to buy some ribbons to rework a dress—I cannot be married in a gown I have already been seen in by everyone in the neighbourhood, can I?"

They soon headed towards the shops arm in arm, talking about fashion and fabrics, sleeves and necklines; and, when the discussion drifted to books, agreeing that they would not open a gothic novel or a Shakespeare tragedy for at least one full year.

* * *

Friday did not bring many changes. Meryton was still buzzing with the gossip, but it had taken a somewhat more positive turn. Elizabeth thought her efforts had been only partially successful because of Mr Collins. When told the news of her betrothal, he had felt offended, not only for himself, but also on behalf of his patroness, and claimed to all that would listen—and more—that his cousin must have misunderstood the gentleman, for Mr Darcy was already betrothed to his cousin Anne de Bourgh.

As a result, there were two schools of thought in Meryton about Elizabeth betrothal: some people pitied her for having been ill-used by the gentleman, and some applauded him for having the good sense to choose 'the brightest jewel of the county'. On the whole, her small campaign had been effective—no matter what the individual conclusions were. The whole town was convinced that the two of them had been flirting with each other all along. When the gentlemen returned, it would be confirmation that Mr Darcy had not toyed with her, thus restoring her reputation and, more importantly, that of her sisters. Not enough time would have passed in the meantime for the Bennets to be clearly ostracised. She merely expected that there might be a few speculative glances and whisperings when they entered the church on Sunday, but those would only be of a negative sort if Mr Darcy did not return.

On Saturday, they saw the last of Mr Collins—for the present time—for he promised to return very soon for a visit. After his departure, Elizabeth had then been surprised to learn that Miss Lucas had accepted his hand and could offer her friend only half-hearted congratulations, while privately thinking Charlotte had lost her senses to consider marrying such a man. She also wondered if she might lose her friend, for if Mr Collins were to be believed, Lady Catherine de Bourgh would not be happy with her nephew's wedding and, overbearing as she seemed to be, might forbid her parson's wife to correspond with her new niece.

Later that day, after a happy Sir William had come to announce to his neighbours the betrothal of his eldest daughter, Darcy and the Viscount did return and joined the Bennets for a quiet dinner—or as quiet as a dinner in the Bennet household could be.

Kitty and Lydia were still giggling, but discreetly, for their mother was piqued and had been scolding them after they had been fighting over a ribbon they wished to sew on their dress for their sister's wedding, claiming that any ribbon that would be sewn in the next couple of days was to be only for the benefit of Elizabeth. Mrs Bennet was both displeased to have had so little time to organise the wedding and vexed that Mr Collins had not redirected his attentions to her next daughter. Mary herself felt something akin to disappointment and did not feel her usual need to offer platitudes to whoever was around to listen. At the head of the table, Mr Bennet threw worried glances between his second eldest and the man who would soon be whisking his favourite away. Jane was still subdued after what she had learned earlier that week, and Elizabeth, though not sombre, was far from her usual lively self.

On Sunday the Bennets attended services with their guests, and the engaged couple received the heartfelt congratulations of the neighbourhood. There was also some speculation as to a possible birth occurring not quite nine months after the wedding, but even that was not maliciously intended. People simply assumed that the _young lovers_ , as they called them, had been carried away as so many betrothed couples had been before them and were, on the whole, happy that one of their own had found someone of such great consequence to marry.

Later that morning, breakfast was eaten with more animation than the previous day, as Mrs Bennet was alternatively happily retelling every compliment she had been paid and bemoaning the fact that the wedding breakfast she had arranged for the morrow was not befitting a man of Darcy's stature. Of particular displeasure was the lack of time to have a new dress sewn for Elizabeth. Her daughter had somewhat altered an old one with new ribbons and some lace, but it was, in Mrs Bennet's estimation, by no means a fine enough dress for the bride of a man worth ten thousand pounds a year. Kitty and Lydia had returned loudly speaking about the officers, and Mary was generously sharing her wisdom again. When the meal was over, Mr Darcy suggested they take a turn in the gardens, and every daughter except Mary agreed to the scheme. He offered his arm to Elizabeth, and they walked outside at a brisk enough pace to soon be stepping out of the hearing of the others. The younger Miss Bennets would have liked to catch up to eavesdrop, but Miss Bennet had a firm hand on their arms, and they soon resigned themselves to simply watching the affianced couple.

Darcy and Elizabeth had walked the paths for some time in silence, admiring the different views. At length, Elizabeth spoke.

"I have been surprised to see how easy it was to have people think there was nothing more natural than our betrothal. I am afraid I did not like you much at first"— _and I still cannot say I do_ , _though I certainly could, and will once I know you better, for you are not as awful as I thought, far from it_ —"and I made my opinion known rather forcefully. But people believed that I resented you for injuring my vanity and that, later, having had the occasion to observe you more, I changed my mind. It is also speculated that you must have apologised at some point," she added with a smile.

"I hope you are not too much distressed by this turn of events. I know you have not had much time to accustom yourself for such a change in your life."

"I thank you—I am tolerably well. I should also like to thank you for your generosity."

"Please, do not thank me—if anything, I am the one who is indebted to you. And in truth, I have been uneasy these past two days, as I came to realise that you were not given a choice in the matter. If you wish it so, there _could_ be another possibility: Henry and I had also thought that some money could be settled on you and your sisters so that you would have an opportunity to make a match or, barring that, live in comfort should your father die. The problem with that option is that it might also bring your respectability into question. I leave it for you to decide if you would rather live alone in comfort than be married to me."

She stopped and turned to look properly at him. "You wish to end this engagement?"

"No. Certainly not. But if you wished for it, I would release you. Though, I should point that it would greatly reduce your possibilities of character study." That made her smile and, as they resumed walking, he continued. "In the end, a marriage is simpler to explain, but I do not want you to enter it unwillingly."

"I must thank you for your thoughtfulness. But my decision is made—and it is indeed mine. After you had left, my father summoned me and offered me the possibility to withdraw my acceptance. In the end, I found that it would be unsatisfying, though I own I am rather terrified at the prospect of being married to you."

"Please do not fret," he said, squeezing her hand. "You will do very well, and if you need some assistance, you can always rely on me or on the trusted housekeepers who have served the family well for many years of service and who will help you settle in your new position. As for your acceptance in society, I have no doubt that my aunt—Henry's mother—will help you to navigate our circles."

The running of the houses was not—by far—the primary of Elizabeth's concerns.

"I am grateful for your assurance of your family's support, but in truth, this is not what I meant." They walked in silence until she blurted: "Would it not be possible to marry later? While I have no doubt that we will get along harmoniously, I feel as if I am marrying a stranger. _That_ frightens me."

It was his turn to organise his thoughts, and, after some minutes, he spoke.

"We could postpone the wedding, I suppose, but I do not like that idea. If we are to marry, I would prefer to do it quickly. Not only will it make my sister and me safer, but it would also make it easier to have familial discussions about what is to be done regarding Bingley, Fitzwilliam and Wickham—if he is still here."

"I fail to understand how our marriage would be relevant for the latter."

"Would you not want to be part of these discussions? They are bound to affect you and, as a newcomer, you could have some considerations we would not have thought of."

Elizabeth was surprised, and it shown through her voice. "You would wish for my input in such a private matter?"

"Of course. As I told you, I do value your opinion."

They turned and walked back towards the house in silence. As they were approaching, Mrs Bennet's voice could be heard complaining, perhaps to Hill, about all the things she would have wished to do for her daughter's wedding to such an illustrious personage but would not have the possibility to organise. As they went past the window of the drawing room, they overheard a particularly outrageous suggestion at which Elizabeth could not help but giggle.

"I must concede that marrying tomorrow will have its advantages."

Darcy stopped and turned towards her. "Are you certain you want to go forward with the wedding? I might not like the idea of postponing the event, but if you feel you need more time, I will wait."

She shook her head. "I will have to trust in Charlotte's advice—I will have all the time I need to sketch your character after we are married. Let us marry tomorrow."

He squeezed her hand as her sisters at last caught up with the couple, and they entered the house together.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks again** for your reviews. Some of you are worried about Georgiana: she's currently safe. After all, she's not out yet and if the Plan succceeded, she would be in mourning first and it would be unseemly for her to marry soon. The problem with warning her is that it could end tipping off Colonel Fitzwilliam and Bingley about the plan's failure. Also ... Colonel Fitzwilliam had Bingley help him lure Darcy in Hertfordshire with the promise of a marriage to Georgiana, but who knows whether he can be trusted? In cany case, Georgiana is not in any immediate danger. There will be a brief mention of her in this instalment.

And now, the penultimate chapter, in which there is a wedding.

* * *

The wedding had gone off without a hitch, and the party was now assembled at Longbourn. Elizabeth had wished for her uncle and aunt Gardiner's presence, but in order to be at Longbourn on Monday before noon and with them not travelling on a Sunday they would have needed to leave Gracechurch Street on Saturday, and they had not been able to travel on such short notice. Darcy had promised Elizabeth that they would have her family visit them in Town, and she hoped her aunt would be able to give her some advice to help her find happiness in her marriage. Mrs Bennet's talk had been disconcerting and disheartening more than anything else, which, upon reflection, was not very surprising given the state of her own marriage.

Her husband's aunt was present, though—and _she_ was not happy at all. Lady Catherine de Bourgh had invited her parson for tea the day before and had heard from him a most alarming report. She had left at first light for Hertfordshire the following day in order to dissuade Miss Bennet from marrying her nephew, had arrived too late, and was currently nursing her disappointment with a cup of punch. Sir William was attending her, and she was somewhat mollified by his deference.

Lady Catherine had noticed the presence of her eldest nephew and surmised her brother the Earl had sent his heir to the wedding as a sign of approval of the match. Since she did not want to be the one to cause a breach in the family over this alliance, for she would be the one who would most suffer from it, she decided she had better accept the new Mrs Darcy. Apart from having stolen her Anne's intended, the bride seemed to be an agreeable enough young lady, as was her elder sister. The rest of the family was dreadful, though, but she had expected that, given that they were Mr Collins' relatives. That the two eldest daughters were ladylike and proper was a nice surprise. Their father, while outwardly polite, gave her the distinct impression that he was mocking her. This was not to be borne. Putting down her empty glass and taking up a full one, she went in search of Miss Lucas—another pleasant surprise since she had not thought her parson would find a wife so sensible—in order to become better acquainted with her. She had no interest in doing so with her new niece's family and suspected that Miss Lucas, whom she had been told was a friend of the former Elizabeth Bennet, would be well qualified to enlighten her regarding the lady's character and the circumstances of her betrothal to her nephew.

A few miles away, another person was very unhappy with the events of that day. When his sister had come to Town unexpectedly, Bingley had hoped she would not mention Darcy until a few days had passed, for his plan, in accordance with Colonel Fitzwilliam, had been to return in Netherfield on Tuesday, to ostensibly launch a search party on learning his friend was nowhere to be seen, and to depart as quickly as decency allowed after the bodies had been found. He had been afraid that his family's early arrival would threaten those plans, but in the end, all had worked very well, with only a small adjustment. His sisters had taken some time to settle into Hurst's town house. On Friday and Saturday, they had made calls while Hurst had gone to his club, and it was not until Sunday during tea that Darcy was mentioned. He perfectly remembered the conversation he had with Caroline.

"Charles, we passed in front of Mr Darcy's home both yesterday and the day before; to our surprise, his knocker was not up. Do you know where he might be?"

He could not have dreamed of a better opening.

"I would not know, Caroline. Did he not tell you anything before you parted?"

"Of course not; he left so suddenly! I thought he would have spoken with you on the way."

Bingley thought he had managed to display a convincingly puzzled expression.

"On the way? But, Caroline, he only went with me for a few miles, then changed his mind about accompanying me and returned to Netherfield. I thought he had travelled to London with _you_."

Miss Bingley had been genuinely distressed. "But we never saw him after you left. He must have had an accident! Charles, you _must_ do something."

"Calm yourself, Caroline. I will go to Netherfield at first light tomorrow."

"Should we not send an express this very evening?"

"I could, but the night is falling already. I should hate to send an express at this hour."

"But it would make us gain a few hours. What if Mr Darcy fell and hurt himself? Those few hours could make all the difference," she replied, twisting her hands.

Bingley had shaken his head. "Any calamity may befall the rider. I shall not take that risk." Seeing his sister roll her eyes, he had added before she could have said another word: "Besides, what would I say? My friend has disappeared, please search the woods? Maybe he has changed his mind again and has gone home shortly after I arrived but wishes for solitude for the moment. He might even have wished to go somewhere else discreetly and did not think it would worry us. If he truly is not at home, it is better that I go alone for now. It would not do to anger him."

Miss Bingley had reluctantly agreed but had been miserable for the rest of the evening, especially after a messenger sent to Darcy's house had confirmed its master's absence.

Early on Monday morning, Bingley arrived in Hertfordshire again and decided to pass through the glade where he had left Darcy before heading to Meryton to ostensibly enquire after his friend. He had wondered at first if he was in the right place, for the clearing was deserted, but he had soon observed that there were traces of a struggle. Perhaps the bodies had been found already? Continuing to Meryton, he had passed near Longbourn and noticed that many carriages were waiting by the church. Perhaps the locals had commissioned a service for the two deceased? He had approached and glanced inside the building, taking care so as not to be seen, and was ready to recite a grieving speech should he be spotted. What he saw, however, had made him start, and he had barely refrained a scream of frustration.

In front of the altar, surrounded by Jane Bennet and a hale and sound Viscount Jeffreys, stood a very much alive Darcy, holding one of Elizabeth Bennet's hands. He was placing a ring on her finger while saying something, no doubt repeating the vows one made in such a circumstance. Darcy was not only alive but also married. Wickham had failed, along with their carefully thought out plan it would seem. What could have gone wrong? Some officers of the Militia were in attendance, but Bingley did not look closely at them. He doubted his accomplice would have been there or had told his comrades where he went. If he had any sense of self-preservation, he would have resigned his commission or even deserted and embarked on the first ship for the Americas or the West Indies ... or whatever destination would put a maximum distance between him and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Thinking of the latter, Bingley had decided that he must warn him of this unexpected development without delay and left immediately to return to London.

A couple of hours later, Elizabeth, her new husband, and their cousin were also on their way to London in a hired post coach. Darcy and the Viscount had discussed sending for one of the former's carriages in Town but decided against it in case such a move was made known to Colonel Fitzwilliam. Darcy had also refrained from sending any word to his housekeeper or valet and wondered if the latter had been offered a reason for his absence by Colonel Fitzwilliam or Bingley. Smith must have returned to town along with the rest of the Bingley party, therefore, unless a very good explanation regarding Darcy's absence had been crafted by one or another of the plotters, his household must have begun to worry about his whereabouts. His anxiety at his thoughts must have shown on his face, for Elizabeth, who was facing them, gave him a hesitant smile. He smiled back, touched by the fact that although she had more reasons for anxiety than him, she was nonetheless trying to comfort him.

When they arrived in London, they made their way to Darcy's town house.

"My brother is unlikely to be found here," the Viscount said. "He would only do that if Georgiana was in Town since she is his ward—"

"Not for long," Darcy muttered.

"—and she is still in the country with Mother. Once we are certain of his absence, I will leave you by yourselves and make my way to my parents' town house."

His cousins both started.

"Will you not stay?"

"No, Darcy. You two will have to behave like a normal newly married couple—more than that, as a couple in love—if you do not want to attract more gossip than you wish," he said with a shrug. One of his listeners paled, the other blushed.

"But what of your brother? It cannot be safe for you to go home if he is here."

"Lend me a footman. He will ask our butler whether that perfidious being is at home. If he is, I shall come back to your house, and we shall decide upon another course of action. If not, I shall immediately inform Father of what happened this previous week."

At last, the carriage stopped in front of Darcy's home, and its three occupants alighted. The driver took Elizabeth's trunks down, as well as the valise that contained some clothing Darcy had acquired in Saint Albans, and the Viscount went to the front door. As the knocker was down, he banged on it with his walking stick until it at last creaked open and the frowning face of Rodgers, who had been butler there for more than ten years, could be seen. His frown morphed into a relieved smile when he recognised the Viscount and, behind him, his master. "Your Lordship! Sir! We had been so worried. Welcome home! I am sorry nothing was done to receive you properly—we had no idea that you were coming back today."

He had opened the door to let them in while he was speaking and was now divesting them of their outwear. Two footmen scurried outside to fetch the luggage from the driver.

"Mr Rodgers, do not trouble yourself. Viscount Jeffreys will not be staying. In the days to come, he will be the _only_ person—along with the Earl and the Countess and, of course, Miss Darcy and her companion—to be admitted here. Except for them, we will not be at home to anyone. _Especially not_ Colonel Fitzwilliam or Mr Bingley—and would you happen to know where these gentlemen might be?"

"No, sir. Mr Bingley sent a man to enquire about you on Sunday, and we last saw the Colonel on Friday. We have not heard from him since. Were it not for him we would have sent two riders to Hertfordshire to ensure nothing had befallen you on the road when your things arrived without you—and we would possibly not have worried so much. He—"

But Darcy interrupted him.

"Later, if you will, Rodgers. I believe this will take some time. We shall discuss this matter in my study in one hour."

"I shall leave you now," the Viscount said. "I shall bring Father to visit on Thursday." He properly took his leave of Elizabeth while Rodgers went to fetch his coat and hat. The butler returned, followed by a footman to whom Darcy said a few words at which the man nodded at his master and quickly followed the Viscount out of the door and into the waiting chaise.

"Have a meal sent to my sitting room upstairs and two baths prepared," Darcy told his butler when the door was closed.

"Yes, sir." Rodgers did not ask anything, but his gaze had drifted more than once to Elizabeth, who was standing near Darcy and was steadfastly looking at the floor, only glancing around her now and then. She had tried to stay her hands by gripping the sides of her skirt.

"Oh. And let me introduce you to Mrs Darcy. We were married this morning."

Mr Rodgers would not have believed the two greatest shocks of his life would come with so little time between them. The reflexes and habits of an entire life kicked in at that moment, and his countenance reflected none of his thoughts. "Congratulations, sir, madam. Where shall I have your bath prepared? I am afraid the Mistress's rooms are not ready to be inhabited, though that can be done for tomorrow."

"Is the yellow room ready for occupation?" On his butler's nod, he continued: "Mrs Darcy will settle there for now."

"Yes, sir. Did Mrs Darcy's maid travel with her or will she need one?"

"Mrs Darcy does not have a ladies' maid yet. Have Jenny attend her." Darcy then turned towards Elizabeth. "Shall we go?"

They slowly ascended the stairs side by side. When they reached the second landing, Darcy led her to a door.

"This will be your room for now." He then indicated another door down the hall. "Mine is there—after a shared sitting room with the mistress's chambers. I will show you these rooms later. If you wish to redecorate your quarters in any way, it will be done before you move into them."

Not trusting her voice, she nodded. Her husband then opened her temporary room's door, revealing a room decorated in delicate shades of yellow. Elizabeth, more in order to avoid looking at the bed than anything else, let her eyes rest on the sitting area that was situated near the fireplace.

"The only rooms with an attached sitting room are the master and mistress's chambers," her husband explained. "Will you join me there once you are finished? I think some tea would do you some good."

She smiled at him, and, after taking her hand and giving it a light kiss, he departed.

Being alone at last enabled Elizabeth to steady her nerves, and she allowed herself to properly look at the room. Apart from the seats, there was a bed far bigger than the one she slept in with Jane, with yellow bed-curtains. She walked to the window, which was draped with the same fabric, and was rewarded by the view of a small garden at the back of the house. It was rather bare at this time of the year, but some evergreen bushes rendered it cheerful nonetheless. She then went to the dressing room door. Some noises could be heard on the other side—the sound of water being poured and someone humming. Elizabeth decided to open it and found herself facing a woman in her thirties who greeted her with circumspection.

"I'm Jenny, ma'am" she said, dropping a curtsey. "Mr Rodgers told me you would need my services."

"Yes, thank you, Jenny. I must own I am eager to wash away the grime of the road. Is everything ready for a bath?"

On Jenny's affirmative reply, Elizabeth stepped in the dressing room and closed the door. Jenny helped her to disrobe and bathe. Not a quarter of an hour later, she was bundled in soft towels, waiting by the fire while the maid located the items she would need and took them from her trunks—hanging a dress now and then in the wardrobe as she went.

"Which dress will you want to wear, Mrs Darcy?"

"Perhaps the primrose muslin, if it is not too wrinkled?" Jenny did not say a word, but her eyebrows shot upwards. The dress Elizabeth had mentioned was one of the first she had hung, and the maid must have thought it was not nearly fine enough for a lady of her mistress's station, if only because it was several seasons out of style. Maybe she had reasoned, on seeing it in her trunks, that even Mrs Darcy would need a work dress. Elizabeth felt the need to explain.

"It is my favourite dress—one of the first that were made for me when I came out. I know it is not very fashionable, but ..." She did not finish her sentence. How does one say to one's newly appointed abigail that one needed to find as much comfort as one could in their new _situation_ , even from an old dress? But this seemed to be answer enough for the maid since she nodded and, after determining that the gown was indeed not much wrinkled, began to dress her mistress. Jenny thought that her fears regarding the new mistress might be unfounded. Whatever the reason for the hasty marriage, the lady appeared to be a gentle, unassuming creature.

Had she been able to read Jenny's thoughts, Elizabeth would have looked at her in disbelief, for such a description was more fitted to Jane than to her. As it was, she only noticed that, though her expression was still guarded, her maid's manners had softened a little. She attributed it to the surprise that must have been hers when learning she had gained a mistress, and this made her realise that she would need to earn the loyalty of the staff instead of taking it for granted. She doubted her husband would allow anything else on their part, but she wished to show the servants that it was not undeserved.

When she was ready, she dismissed Jenny and went to the room whose door Darcy had shown her before. It opened on an elegant sitting room, though at the moment she was less interested in its furnishings than in the smell which came from a dish on a nearby table.

"You were quick."

She nearly jumped—she had not seen that her husband had been reading in an armchair near the window.

"Cook just sent up some tea, cheese, meat and freshly baked biscuits." He had closed his book and was now holding a chair for his wife. Elizabeth sat, and they began their repast. The fare was simple but good, and when the meal was over, Darcy glanced at his watch.

"It is time that I join Mr Rodgers in the study. Will you come with me, or would you rather rest?"

"I should like to come if it is agreeable to you. Will your housekeeper also be present?"

"I did not think of asking for her presence, but you are right, she must be there at least in the beginning, if only to be introduced to you. Come, let us go."

They descended the stairs arm in arm. When they arrived at the landing, Darcy had one of the footmen summon Mrs Summers and continued to his study, where he settled Elizabeth in an armchair. She liked the room immediately, for it reminded her of one of her favourite rooms at Longbourn: her father's study. It was warm and smelled of books, one of its walls was entirely covered in bookshelves. Her delight must have shown on her face, for Darcy chuckled softly. Neither of them had time to say anything before Mr Rodgers and a middle-aged woman, who Elizabeth correctly surmised was the housekeeper, entered. After the necessary introductions were made, Darcy shortly explained that he and his eldest cousin had been the victims of the perfidy of Mr Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam and that the worst had been avoided only thanks to his wife's timely intervention. He smiled at her after saying the last, and Elizabeth could not help but blush. Darcy _could_ please when he chose. He then asked the two servants what had transpired during his absence.

"Sir, we have not seen Mr Bingley since you both went to Hertfordshire, but your cousin—the Colonel, that is—came to see us on Thursday to inform us you had gone on a journey with Viscount Jeffreys. We had been worried the day before when Smith came back without you, and the Colonel's explanation would have reassured us if he had not let us understand that you were not altogether happy with each other."

"We did not know what to do," Mrs Summers said. "Sending someone to ask after your whereabouts would have attracted attention and, if you had been fighting as we feared, you would have been displeased to become fodder for gossip—or worse."

Mr Rodgers nodded and continued. "The Colonel came back on Friday to enquire about you, for he had received no news of his brother. When he learned we had none of you either, he appeared worried, entreated us to share with him any news we received and departed without another word. As it was, with no news today we had decided that it was time to send someone looking for you. Smith and Weston would have departed at first light tomorrow."

"And before they could do that I conveniently arrived on my doorstep."

"Precisely, sir."

"Has Viscount Jeffreys returned?"

"No, sir. Weston was sent to see him home, and he returned some time ago with the news that Colonel Fitzwilliam is away at the moment."

"Very well. You can go; if there is more, I shall inform you."

And thus Elizabeth found herself alone in the room with her husband. She felt more unsettled than she thought she should be, and it vexed her greatly. She suspected it was partly due to the advice about married life her mother had imparted while she was changing from her wedding clothes into her travelling clothes. She wished more than ever that her aunt Gardiner had been present. In no way equal to conversation, she rose, intending to select a book on the shelf, but it had the effect opposite to the one she hoped, for her husband was at her side in a heartbeat—or so it seemed.

"Lured by the books already, Mrs Darcy?"

She looked at him in alarm, only to see the smile he was sporting widen. Darcy lifted his hands and let them rest lightly on her shoulders. Her pulse quickened, and though she rationally knew she had nothing to fear from her husband, for he had proven to be nothing but considerate, she felt nonetheless utterly terrified. Tears welled up in her eyes. Had her vision not been blurred, she would have seen Darcy's smile disappear and a dismayed frown appear in its stead.

As it was, she merely felt his arms enfolding her and his face ruffling her hair. She could not be sure, but she thought he might have kissed it, too. She leant into him, crying, being angry at herself for crying, and wondering how it was that, though she was afraid of him—or more to the point, annoyed at him and afraid of what he would do— _he_ was the one in whom she sought comfort.

He was rubbing her back now and, while her tears had abated and her temper quietened, she did not move out of her husband's embrace. The ridiculousness, the paradox of the situation hit her: did she not just avoid a kiss only to find herself in a much more intimate position? She could not contain her laughter anymore.

On seeing her shoulders shaking Darcy was at first worried, but his expression soon turned to puzzlement.

"Elizabeth?" he ventured.

This caused her to look at him, eyes both red and full of mirth. "I fear you married a rather silly creature, sir."

"You are everything but silly, but I admit I would like an explanation—one minute you are crying, and the next you are laughing ..."

She shrugged. "I fear I have none—none which is rational, that is. It is truly vexing."

"But you do have an irrational one?" he insisted, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"Yes," she sighed.

"Then tell me what it is."

"I would rather not."

"Why ever not?" he frowned.

"Because it _is_ rather silly. And ... embarrassing." And to add to her embarrassment, she blushed. But that seemed to do the trick—he stopped coaxing her. That being said, his silent contemplation of her face was not an improvement over his previous urging. Before she could think of a clever remark to address him, he began to laugh. It was her turn to frown. He noticed that and, with a smile, said:

"You would think nothing of jumping on an armed man's back, risking your neck in the process, and yet you are frightened by a kiss? This is indeed silly." And for good measure, he punctuated his words with a kiss upon her brow. "Your character is certainly intricate, my dear."

She huffed but did not try to hide her smile. He stepped back and offered her his arm.

"Come—it is getting late, and our day has been rich in happenings."

Tensing again, she nonetheless took his proffered arm and let him lead her to her room, where he left her. Jenny was waiting for her. She helped her put her nightclothes on and discreetly departed. Left alone, Elizabeth wondered what to do—would her husband come, or did his last words indicate he intended for her to sleep? She decided to settle in her bed with a book, but could not concentrate on the words on the page. Her mind kept returning to what she was told would happen, and she began to think of stratagems to avoid it as much as she could should it prove to be as unpleasant as her mother has described it.

Her thoughts drifted to the mistress's rooms. She had briefly seen them before going to the study and had found them elegant; it would not take much work to arrange them to her tastes. But though she had no wish to change the curtains or wall coverings for the sake of change, having work done in them—as much work as was humanly possible, preferentially with material that was not easily at hand—would permit her to not inhabit this room for a time and stay away from her husband. Perhaps Darcy would not like to go back and forth through the hall, and she would be left in relative peace if she stayed where she currently was.

She did not know how long she waited before she was pulled out of her musings by the entrance of the man she was thinking about. He had not bothered to knock. Elizabeth had to smile at the idea that he had just crept down the corridor of his own home while being inappropriately dressed to be seen outside of his bedroom. Maybe he would decide against frequently wandering the halls at night in his nightclothes.

"Are you cold? I can put another log or two in the fireplace if you so wish." She shook her head, and they were left to look at each other in a silence which went on so long that it began to become uncomfortable. Eventually, she slid towards the edge of the bed, lifting the blankets a little. He strode towards the bed and slipped under the covers. Elizabeth snuffed the candle and closed her eyes.

Her husband's hand found hers, enclosed it in his own, and then—nothing.

"You are tense," Darcy whispered after a while. "I shall not bother you. I came because it would be strange if I did not, since only part of the staff is aware of the truth behind our marriage. Sleep, I shall go back to my room in a while."

"Is it truly necessary to wait?" she whispered back.

"You would prefer me to leave you now?"

He began to rise, but she stopped him.

"No. I mean—I thank you for your consideration, but I do not think I shall be less uneasy later."

"Do you not think you would prefer to settle in your new home first? We can broach that subject again once you have adjusted to the situation; I do not want to add to your discomfort."

"No. I shall not deny I am afraid of what is to come, but I have also been told that it will get better with time, so the sooner the first time is over, the better. Otherwise, I will keep fretting about this."

They spent most of the following hour in hushed conversation before Elizabeth managed to carry her point.


	5. Chapter 5

**Note:** Since others might be suspending their disbelief regarding the marriage's consummation, I may as well explain my reasoning. Darcy would be willing to wait (after all, the marriage was rushed), but _Elizabeth_ doesn't want to worry about it, as she would if it was postponed. Kind of rip-the-band-aid approach.

And now, the last instalment, in which, among other things, the Villains meet their fate.

* * *

Morning came. Elizabeth was grateful that Darcy had once again stayed with her, as he had done every night since their wedding—it was probably because he fell asleep like a log each time just after they joined, but she felt comforted nonetheless. It would have been completely depressing to have awakened alone. And, given the chill in the room, his warmth was also appreciated. If a few awkward embraces were the price to pay, so be it—and truth to be told, after the first few times, which were not as unpleasant as her mother had implied, she did not really mind them. This past evening they had even been ... Nice. Satisfying. Pleasant. Was a lady even supposed to know any words that might be used to describe such a feeling? Sighing contentedly, she snuggled closer to her husband. She turned to look at him, but her movements must have woken him for he drowsily opened his eyes.

"Good morning, Mrs Darcy. You do look lovely."

"Flatterer," she laughed. "I know I must look a fright. But I must thank you on behalf of my vanity."

"Elizabeth." He sounded more awake now, and nearly stern. "I am not attempting to flatter you. You _are_ very pretty—I am simply stating a fact."

"That is certainly an improvement on being _tolerable_ ," she said with a smile.

"Who could have uttered such nonsense about you?" her husband scoffed.

"You did, sir," she answered, raising her eyebrow. On seeing his nonplussed expression, she dissolved into laughter. "Do not tell me you are forgetful already?"

He did not answer, apparently trying to remember when he could have said such a thing. She could tell the moment he did, for he looked horrified.

" _This_ is why you told me about your neighbours thinking I had apologised? I surpassed myself that night," he eventually said ruefully, hugging her to his side. "I was in a bad mood, wanting to be displeased with everything and everyone—and thus I was."

He paused to kiss her brow. "Would it please you to know that it was not long before I found myself charmed by you?"

"You would want me to believe that?" The amused incredulity in her voice was noticeable.

"It is the truth—why do you think I looked at you so much when we both were at Netherfield? I have never been so happy with Miss Bingley than when she suggested that the two of you walk in the drawing room."

"I thought you were cataloguing my faults."

At this, he laughed. "You might have been right the other day after all—you _are_ rather silly." He punctuated this sentence with a kiss. She huffed and hit his arm lightly, so lightly that it soon morphed into a caress.

"What should we do, Darcy?"

"I might have an idea," he said, nuzzling her neck. She let out a giggle.

"Not now! I mean about your cousin and Mr Bingley—do you not remember your family is to call today?"

He groaned. "Already?"

"It _has_ been three days, sir."

At this, he sighed dramatically. "We should go ahead with our day. Will you meet me in our sitting room when you are ready? I should like for us to eat breakfast together." She readily agreed, and he hastened to his room while Elizabeth, after ringing for her maid—who would undoubtedly warn Darcy's valet to be ready for his master's call—went to her dressing room.

While Jenny attended her, Elizabeth wondered if she should move into the Mistress's chambers. She was still thinking of replacing the curtains and wall coverings, but that could wait until they left London as the room, thanks to the staff's efforts, was habitable in the meantime. Her husband would appreciate the ability to reach his dressing room without wandering the halls only clad in a dressing gown. She was still reluctant to move, though, but only because she liked the cheerfulness of her temporary rooms and the view its window offered.

Neither Darcy nor Elizabeth required much time to prepare for the day, and when they were finished with their meal, there was still half an hour to go before the earliest time at which their relatives could be expected. That time was spent in the study. Elizabeth had expressed a desire to explore its shelves, not having had any opportunity to do so previously. Darcy settled with a volume of poetry, glancing now and then at his wife who was perusing atlases.

She was not unaware of this and, for the first time in their acquaintance, felt completely unsettled by his gaze. It had been easier to withstand his focus when she had managed to convince herself that he was criticising her. She had no defence against admiration, and it dawned on her that the stories that had circulated in Meryton about her reasons to fuel her dislike of Mr Darcy might have had a grain of truth after all. It was highly disconcerting to find that, until that moment, she had not even realised she was far from knowing herself.

She looked at her open book without seeing it, lost in her thoughts, and jumped when her husband's hand on her arm brought her back to her surroundings.

"Forgive me. I did not mean to frighten you."

"You did not," she answered with a smile. "I was merely surprised in my wool-gathering."

"You seemed uneasy," he continued, studying her face. She sighed.

"I have been so very blind. Forgive me."

"Elizabeth?"

"I had been wounded by your early dismissal of me and, since then, had endeavoured to dislike you, interpreting whatever you happened to say as further proof of your disdain."

She sighed again and leant against his shoulder. He stood still, stiff, and the arm he had been rising to embrace her fell back at his side.

"You _really_ disliked me? I remember you hinted at something like that on the eve of our wedding, but I had understood it had been a short-lived sentiment."

She said nothing, only inching closer to him.

"Why did you not tell me anything?" he asked.

She shrugged. "It seemed a rather impolitic thing to say more than I already had. After all, I had been given no palatable alternative for my future, and from the moment you asked for my hand—no, even before that—I had decided that I would endeavour to like you, to care for you. I did not dislike you any more on the day we had that conversation. We were just about to marry: what would have been achieved at that point by the avowal of my past feelings? It was for the best that I stayed silent."

"But you were unhappy to be married to _me_ —regardless of when."

"At first, yes," she whispered.

"How could I have not seen that?"

"I suppose other things commanded your attention," she said with half a smile. "And, again, I was determined not to let it show."

She drew back a little in order to look at his face and, setting her book aside, put her hands on his shoulders. He looked back at her, seemingly dejected.

"I must ask, Elizabeth—are you still unhappy?"

"No! Can you not tell?"

"I fear that, where you are concerned, I am sadly short-sighted."

She hesitated, removed some imaginary speck of dust from his coat, and eventually spoke. "I cannot say that I am overjoyed but, truly, I _am_ content, which is more than I expected a week ago. Has it only been one week? I was certainly not unhappy on our wedding day, even if, given the circumstances, I cannot say that I was happy either. However, I feel that we have begun to get along charmingly—I have no doubt that we will go on, and soon be very happy."

At last, he smiled a little and, raising his hand to her face, stroked her cheek.

"I love you, Elizabeth."

Her eyes widened, and she was stunned into silence for a moment.

"I—I had no idea ... how long have you felt that way?"

"I cannot say—it must have been for some time, but I did not realise it until recently."

"It appears that I am no better at reading you than you are at reading me," she said. "Let us hope, for both our sakes, that we will improve soon in that regard."

"Let us hope so," he said, embracing her.

They were still entwined on the sofa when the door opened. Lord — and his eldest son were announced and entered the room. After Elizabeth had been introduced to her new uncle, the Earl expressed his congratulations to the young couple and his gratitude towards his new niece. They sat again as tea was brought into the room and served. When the door was shut, the conversation turned to the best manner to deal with the situation. Lord — was at first surprised that Mrs Darcy had stayed for that discussion, but on seeing his son and nephew appeared to think her presence was appropriate, he did not object and hoped she would, as unlikely as he had been taught to expect such a thing from a female, provide them some insight on the manner to deal with the plotters. He soon shared his belief that Colonel Fitzwilliam was the most dangerous of them.

"I made some discreet enquiries about Bingley, and from what I found, I believe he is more likely to be led—be it by his sister or a friend—than to actively lead a conspiracy. Moreover, as he is not part of the family, it would be more difficult for him to gain access to you. As for Wickham, I agree with your conclusion that he must be on the run, and therefore not a concern to us anymore. We shall still have to deal with him and Bingley, of course; what they did cannot go unpunished. But I dare say it can wait for now."

"The colonel could still try to get to Georgiana," Darcy frowned. "I wrote to her to apprise her of my wedding, but she knows nothing of the events which led to it. Has my aunt been told?"

"Yes. I sent her an express at Henry's demand as soon as he came home, asking for her presence and warning her against both her younger son and Mr Bingley. She and Georgiana must be on their way to London as we speak."

"Did you not fear that the message would be intercepted?"

"No. My son went away on Saturday to do some training with his regiment and told me he would not be back for two weeks."

"Good," Darcy said. "Now, what are we to do?"

"What could be possible, Father? You cannot disown him."

"Indeed I cannot, and even if I could, I would be reluctant to cause such an uproar. I am not without friends amongst his superiors, though. It should be easy enough to assign him to a faraway destination. British India, perhaps."

"He could come back," objected the Viscount.

"He could," confirmed his father, "but not before you have a few children of your own, or so I hope."

"If I may, sir?" said Elizabeth. "You were talking about not wanting to be the object of gossip earlier. I assume that you will not want Colonel Fitzwilliam to attend Viscount Jeffreys' wedding, but that event will take place soon, before another assignment can be given to the colonel. Would that not cause talk?"

"It would indeed; it would be preferable if my son could leave our shores before that day. But, if it were not possible, the scandal would not be so great that we could not weather it. Of course, I would rather not share the _actual_ reasons for such an estrangement, but we can leave people to their speculations. An added advantage of such a line of conduct is that it will send Bingley—and possibly Wickham, if he is still around—a clear message: if we do not hesitate to cut one of our blood, we should have no compunction doing the same to someone related by marriage, had one of them ever succeeded in marrying your sister, and even less to a mere acquaintance. It should make him think."

In the pause that followed, Elizabeth's sigh could be heard. The men turned towards her.

"I was only thinking of Jane," she offered on seeing that they expected her to say something.

"Dear Lord!" her husband cried. "Do you think that if he believes _my_ sister to be out of reach, he will try to woo _yours_ to enter the family?"

"I know not."

He put his hand on hers. "I suppose it is a good thing she does not return his admiration and will not feel herself bound to accept him out of familial duty should he offer."

"But she does!"

"Bingley has offered marriage to your sister?" the Earl asked with a frown.

"No, I only meant she does care for him, that she probably is in love with him. It _is_ a good thing she knows he is not the amiable man she thought he was and is endeavouring to forget him."

"It must have come as a shock to her."

"It has, in more ways than one," Elizabeth said dolefully. "Jane always sees people in a good light, whether they are deserving of it or not, and learning that some people, amongst whom is a young man she admired, were evil at heart—and learning it in such a fashion—has been hard for her. Mr Darcy, I did not speak of it before, but would it be possible for us to invite her to visit as soon as we can? I fear that hearing my mother's daily laments over that suitor's loss and the fact he deceived us all will quickly wear her down."

"You may write as soon as you wish."

"But would it not seem strange that I call for her so soon after our wedding?"

"Maybe. But do not forget that Georgiana will be here shortly and would be happy for her company."

"Then I shall write once your sister is settled."

A cough started the newlyweds from their discussion.

"Would you mind coming back to our main concern?" Lord — asked.

Blushing, the Darcys acquiesced.

"India, then?" asked his nephew.

"Yes. I could also pull some strings to have him sent to Spain with the next battalion, but I ... forgive me, son, but even though you will only be safe when you have many sons or your brother dies, I am reluctant to send him to a certain death. It is too close to murder."

"I understand," acknowledged the Viscount.

"You will have to be on your guard. Now, Darcy, there is the matter of your sister."

"Georgiana? How so?"

"As long as she is unmarried, she can be considered an easy access to Pemberley—less so once you have children. You should not take any risks. We should from now on contemplate an alliance with a powerful family. I know of one or two Peer's sons who—"

"No."

"Darcy, be reasonable."

"I shall _not_ sell my sister for a political alliance before she is even out. She _will_ have her season. She _will_ have a say in whom she marries. And we _shall_ protect her in the meantime."

The Earl frowned and tsk-tsked but, seeing that his nephew would be inflexible, did not otherwise object.

"Maybe we should also address the subject of gossip," the Viscount said after a lull.

"Gossip? Would it not be more important to discuss what to do about Mr Bingley?" enquired Elizabeth.

"Maybe not, dear. Do you remember whay my uncle said, or that discussion we had at Netherfield? Bingley is a follower more than a leader. Left to himself, I do not think he would give us reason to worry."

"But would Miss Bingley not try to step in? She is, after all, ambitious and opportunistic. Whilst we were all in Hertfordshire, it was clear that her goal was to further an alliance between herself and my husband," said Elizabeth with a roll of her eyes. "I cannot see her as evil, but then I could not see Mr Bingley as such before I heard him that morning."

"Miss Bingley is different from her brother," objected the Viscount. "She has always been transparent in her strategy. If she learns what her brother has done and that his plans are not likely to succeed, she would rather cut all ties with him than suffer society's displeasure."

"In short," asked Darcy, "we should do nothing about Bingley save let him retreat to whatever hole he can find and cut him should we meet?"

"That's the gist of it," his uncle answered.

"I do not like it." He was frowning and relaxed somewhat when his wife slipped her hand into his.

"Wickham will already have taken a French leave," his cousin went on, "but we have other gossip to take care of. The drawing rooms are abuzz with tales of you and I fighting over an insulting remark you supposedly made regarding Lady Constance."

"What has been done about this?"

"Father and I have tried to deny it, but it has had no effect."

"Of course," Elizabeth piped in. "When rumour is more exciting than the truth, it will be told anyway. Trust me on that—my mother and aunt are not left out when it comes to gossiping in our community."

"Would that experience give you an idea about how to redirect this gossip?"

Elizabeth paused.

"I think I do have an idea ... I suggest that you do not try to deny that there has been a disagreement, nor that this disagreement is over a betrothed. Now, has the news of our marriage become known?"

"Not yet. We were to send an announcement to the papers today and planned to discuss it at the club."

"Good. Viscount Jeffreys stood up for my husband at our wedding, so I suggest that he says he had been called from Town to do so and expressed his disappointment at his cousin's choice of a bride. After all, I do not have any dowry or connections worth being mentioned—worse, my favourite uncle is in trade," she added with an impertinent smile which lightened the mood in the room somewhat.

"I thought you were very fond of that aunt and uncle and that they were very fashionable."

"I _am_. They _are. However,_ on a superficial level, they are _not_ relations that the grandson of an Earl would boast of."

Darcy shook his head, and his wife went on, turning towards the Viscount.

"Since your betrothed has also been mentioned, she could appear by name in that piece of news: Darcy might have suggested that she accompany you in Hertfordshire, and you would have objected, not wanting to expose her to unknown people whose behaviour could possibly be unruly. He would have taken offence at another criticism of his family to be, and though you would have come, you still would have been annoyed at each other."

"That might work," said the Earl with a speculative look at Elizabeth. "I must commend you for your creativity, Mrs Darcy."

* * *

 _One week later, in a carriage travelling through London_

Colonel Fitzwilliam had executed his soldierly mission to the satisfaction of his superiors, who had now called on him to report to them in person. He was already anticipating some leave and planned to use it to visit his father and resign as soon as he would have been given the official news of his brother's demise.

Wickham had found him in the last days of November to demand the funds he had been promised on completion of their non-soldierly mission and had been given them without delay. The man was then to return to Hertfordshire and his regiment, but Fitzwilliam was convinced he would settle his debts, sell his commission in the Militia, and leave soon after for greener pastures without fear of being pursued by angry merchants or his former comrades.

He did not wonder at the lack of communication from his father since he had been deliberately vague concerning his location. Perhaps his commanding officer would know about his loss and release him without there being a need to ask for it? Suddenly, he frowned. The carriage in which he was riding had passed down the street where his father's house was located, and he had not noticed any mourning wreath on any door. _Maybe I was too deep in thought to notice_ , he shrugged. The carriage turned onto Whitehall, slowed down, and entered the courtyard of the War Office. On stepping down, Colonel Fitzwilliam was welcomed by a young lieutenant who, after he had confirmed his identity, offered to lead him to where he was awaited. The colonel followed him to a room where three of his superior officers received him. Convinced as he was that they must know about his brother's passing, their grave faces did not give him pause, but after a few seconds, the fact that they did not offer him a seat did.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam," one of them said at last. "You are being reassigned and will join our troops in India; your ship will leave tomorrow with the tide, so we have arranged lodgings for you here. Lieutenant Carrey will give you more details about your assignment. He will also be at your disposal should you need anything and ensure you board safely."

Colonel Fitzwilliam was speechless. Wondering what had caused this surprising transfer, he knew better than to ask the question and resolved to resign as soon as he officially received news of his family's loss. With that in mind, he said:

"Since I shall be gone for a long time, I shall visit my father before I go."

"No, you will not."

"Pardon me?"

The colonel was aghast. He had expected acquiescence, perhaps with the request that he took Lieutenant Carrey with him, but not a reduction of his movements.

"No, you may not visit your father. He has come here to see you and say his goodbyes."

"My father knows you are sending me away and does not object?" He could not understand how it could be possible under the circumstances.

"Of course, he doesn't. He was the one who requested this in the first place."

 _Why? It cannot be! Unless he learned ..._

"I understand your brother is with him."

Colour drained from Colonel Fitzwilliam's face.

"My _brother_?"

"Surprised, little brother?" Colonel Fitzwilliam spun around. He had not heard the door open and close, but his brother was now in the room, as well as his father.

"You did not foresee that Wickham could fail?" Viscount Jeffreys added with a smirk.

"He _told_ me ..." suddenly realising his hired hand had swindled him, the younger Fitzwilliam swore in a most ungentlemanly manner.

"Since it is likely that you will be abroad for a very long time," his father then said, "I believe it would be prudent that you relinquish your guardianship of Georgiana. Henry will help Darcy if needed, and the future Viscountess will be able to guide her adequately in her debut into society. Oh, and in case you were wondering about your _other_ cousin, he fares quite well. As does his wife."

"Darcy is _married_? To whom? When?" Fitzwilliam had managed to hold onto his self-control until then, but this piece of news was too surprising for him not to react.

"Quite recently. To someone you would not know," his brother answered with a shrug.

Colonel Fitzwilliam was fuming. The whole operation was an unmitigated disaster, and it seemed that his only viable option at this moment was to create a new life for himself in India.

"Gentlemen, it is time for me to pack. If you will excuse me."

"Of course—but before you go, this came for you last week. I opened it quite by mistake."

Fitzwilliam took the unsealed letter his father was holding. A glance allowed him to easily identify its sender. _So Bingley has tried to contact me._ He would see later if it was to warn him or to cross him but, in any case, it did not matter anymore. He left the room without a glance for his family, Lieutenant Carrey on his heels.

* * *

Charles Bingley was worried. The note he had sent his accomplice immediately on coming back to London was still unanswered. He had hoped that his family would forward it to wherever Fitzwilliam might be, but the fact he had not heard from him since did not give him much hope. Did he know that the plan had failed and fled out of reach, or was he unaware of the trouble they were in?

In either case, Bingley was on his own now. He would have to decide soon what to do, or more precisely, where to go, for one thing was clear: staying in England was not an option. Going overseas would be best. Having thus decided, he went to visit his man of business in order to know what would be necessary and what the delays were in order to transfer all of his fortune to one of the British colonies or to the Americas. He had no doubt Wickham was already on his way. However, he was wrong.

George Wickham had indeed settled some of his debts—there was no point of giving the merchants money when it could stay in his pocket, but if he wished to leave without being pursued, he had to resign his commission and settle his debts of honour. Knowing Colonel Fitzwilliam was bound to be in trouble and might be sent abroad, Wickham decided to hide somewhere he would not be found in London and wait until he learned more about his subject. When the newspapers made the colonel's new posting known, he waited until the man was safely gone before embarking on a boat that departed in the opposite direction, vowing to be careful with his money for once in his life.

Bingley had avoided his family since his return from Meryton. By the time she had received a letter from Jane Bennet, his sister Caroline was beside herself with worry. On learning of her former neighbour's marriage to Fitzwilliam Darcy, she wondered if her brother had avoided her to escape her lamentations on the subject. _What did he expect? That I would express my disappointment loudly, maybe throw a tantrum? I am better bred than that. I do not behave as the likes of Mrs Bennet do!_ Pinching her lips, she reasoned that this marriage must be the reason for Mr Darcy's stealthy return to Hertfordshire. She doubted his family would have readily approved of the match if they knew of it beforehand but knew they would not say anything once the union had been blessed by the Church. At least Miss Eliza—Mrs Darcy—was not as silly as her sisters and mother; all Caroline had to do now was to make the best of the connection. Eliza Darcy would not know many people from their circles and, even if the Countess of — agreed to guide her into society, she would benefit from the friendship of someone closer to her age. Of course, the association would be mutually beneficial. Miss Bingley went out that day with a smile, ready to sing the praises of the new Mrs Darcy.

A week or so before Christmas, the Darcys were enjoying their breakfast alone—Miss Darcy and Miss Bennet, who had instantly taken a liking to each other, were already finished with their meal and the former was now teaching the latter the basics of pianoforte—when Rodgers came into the room to inform them that Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley had come to call and insisted that the master and mistress of the house must be told of their presence.

"They said they need your help, sir, and could not wait until a later hour."

Darcy exchanged a glance with his wife, who nodded.

"Thank you, Rodgers. Will you have them wait in the blue drawing room?"

Before the butler retreated, Elizabeth spoke. "Why not here? If there is some urgent matter, it would be best if we hear it as soon as possible rather than wait until our breakfast is finished."

Her husband agreed to her suggestion, and a few moments later, the sisters were announced and shown into the breakfast room. They congratulated the newlyweds and accepted a seat at the table but appeared somewhat nervous, so Darcy dismissed the footmen as soon as their guests had been served.

When the door closed, Mrs Hurst turned towards her hostess.

"Forgive us, Mrs Darcy, for imposing upon you at such an early hour, but we have just learned the most terrible news—"

"Charles has gone away," Miss Bingley blurted. "I cannot understand why or where; we hoped Mr Darcy would have been made aware of his plans."

"I have not," he answered. "But are you certain he is gone?"

"Oh, yes. We had a note this morning from his man of business—"

"We actually received it yesterday, but we were away at the time and were not made aware of it until now," precised Mrs Hurst.

"Yes," her sister continued, "and he simply wrote to reassure me that he would continue to care for my dowry even though Charles had withdrawn his money and had no need of his services anymore since he would be abroad. Hurst has gone to meet with him and learn more, but we wished to know whether you could throw some light on the situation. Charles is your friend, he _must_ have told you something."

Bingley's sisters were both looking at Darcy, their eyes full of hope. The gentleman sighed.

"I fear that what I will tell you will bring you only distress."

"How could anything you tell us about why he left be more distressing than not knowing anything at all?"

Darcy sighed again, and on seeing he did not seem to know how to begin, Elizabeth spoke.

"Do you know what your brother did after he left Netherfield?"

"Yes, of course. We spent a few days together before Louisa and I realised Mr Darcy was not in London after all. Charles told us he changed his mind and stayed at Netherfield, and on seeing our worry that no one seemed to know of his whereabouts, he told me he would go back to Hertfordshire and look for him." Miss Bingley paused and, after a look at her hosts, shook her head.

"You were married the Monday after we left, were you not?" At Elizabeth's nod, she went on. "I would never have believed my brother capable of such stealth. He obviously knew of your engagement and wished to be present at your wedding but must have feared that we would make a scene if we had been aware of this—I still cannot fathom why."

After a pause, she rolled her eyes. "And it does not explain everything. It would explain why he made himself scarce, but why would he take all his money and leave England?"

"Your brother did not know of any engagement, Miss Bingley," Darcy answered slowly. "And he certainly was not present at our wedding."

"He could have been," Elizabeth interjected. "If he had gone back that day, he might have seen something was going on at the church."

"And disappeared on realising we were safe and sound. This is indeed possible."

Mrs Hurst started. "Forgive me, but I fail to understand why my brother would wish you harm—if it is what you implied."

"It is," Darcy sighed. "I fear your brother is capable of more stealth than any of us thought possible. He did not act alone in this but plotted with my own cousin."

A short retelling of what happened the day after the Netherfield ball followed; the sisters were devastated on learning the extent of their brother's misdeeds. They sat some time in silence, stunned, once Darcy had finished with his tale. At length, Mrs Hurst rose, followed by Miss Bingley, and spoke.

"Please, forgive us for having taken up so much of your time. Be assured that we shall not trouble you later or presume that there is any link between our families. May we just ask, if it is at all possible, that his betrayal will not be widely circulated? Since he is away now …"

"Mrs Hurst, Miss Bingley," said Elizabeth kindly. "You are not accountable for the follies of your brother, and though I cannot promise you we are to be the best friends who ever existed, I have no wish to sever the acquaintance."

Having said that, she glanced at her husband who nodded in approval.

For the first time since they had entered the room, relief could be seen on their guests' faces. After profusely thanking the Darcys, the Bingley sisters took their leave.

In time, Miss Bingley, whose gratitude towards the Darcys never faltered, deepened her friendship with Mrs Darcy as well as with Miss Darcy and Miss Bennet, the later never realising her congeniality had been false at first. Her brother's abandonment garnered her much sympathy in the following season, and in that summer, she married a successful barrister, the sixth son of a Duke.

Though they never took advantage of their brother's name and generosity, their new connection allowed the Misses Bennet to make better matches than they could have expected. The marriage of her daughters assuaged most of Mrs Bennet's fears regarding her future, and though she did not change in essentials, Longbourn became somewhat quieter.

As for the Darcys, they were deliriously happy. Elizabeth had realised early in the new year, as she was dreadfully missing her husband who had gone to a hunting party for a couple of days, that she had fallen in love deeply with him. She could not wait to share her _discovery_ with him. Their happiness was obvious to all, if only for the fact that in she gave birth to many sons and daughters. The Viscount and Viscountess were equally blessed, and the young cousins frequently played together at Pemberley or —, sometimes under the benevolent eye of their great-aunt Catherine. She witnessed among other things their improvement in tree climbing, which was directly supervised by Mrs Darcy, claiming that she would have been a true proficient in such an endeavour had she ever learned it. Her ladyship had been livid when she had learned of her exiled nephew's treachery, not so much because she expected better of someone of her blood, but because he had been the means of ruining the prospects of a most beloved daughter. Even after Miss de Bourgh was happily married to a gentleman of means whose estate was close to Rosings, the name of her brother's selfish, ungrateful son was never mentioned by her again.

Colonel Fitzwilliam, whose brother made a point of keeping him informed about his _issues_ , scowled after each birth announcement he received. He fell ill after learning that the Viscountess had been safely delivered of a fourth son some months beforehand, and he died of fever shortly afterwards, never having returned to the English soil.

On the boat that carried him to America, Bingley encountered the missing Wickham. The two men decided to swear off swindling and extortion in the New World. Using Bingley's capital, they established themselves as bankers and increased their fortunes. It is not beyond the realm of possibilities that some of Bingley's earnings ended in Wickham's pockets but, on the whole, neither had any cause to repine their alliance.


End file.
